BUCKING THE SYSTEM: NO PLACE LIKE HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

There's no place like home for the holidays ... especially when there's a bottle-rocket war zone right outside your front door.

While I love the U.S.A. and enjoy getting into the patriotic swing of things, I must admit that Independence Day is not my favorite holiday. Actually, I am starting to dislike the holiday a little more each year, in direct proportion to my slower reaction times when firecrackers are thrown in my direction.

I understand the meaning behind Independence Day, but unfortunately, my fear of the unknown has started to get in the way of my love of country. I appreciate the people who have given their all fighting for our democracy, and I have even on occasion been known to concentrate on solutions for building a better democracy.

I also enjoy traveling from house to house on this holiday eating O.P.B.: Other People's Barbecue.

But even with all of that, it doesn't bother me to work away this holiday, as I will have done by the time this column goes to print. In fact, I volunteered to work. You see, I dislike the Fourth of July specifically because of the people who become maniacs when they get within three feet of fireworks.

You know the type. They're the people who think it's cute to launch bottle rockets at each other. The ones who let 4-year olds hold Roman candles in their hand, then look at each other as if to say, "How'd that happen?" when the family dog gets hit with a multicolored bullet of sparks.

Fireworks season, which basically exists two weeks before the Fourth and continues for about a week afterwards, is a scary time for me. I have a low threshold for pain, danger and gruesome sights, and it seems to me this holiday brings on an onslaught of all of the above.

People accidently and purposely shoot fireworks at windows, cars, animals and other unoffending targets, and kids and adults receive serious burns after things they shouldn't have been holding explode in their hands.

You'd think fireworks would be a big thing to me, and for awhile, they were. I mean, I did live within five miles of Fireworks Central (a.k.a. Reeves Boomland), and since I lived in the country, I could have an air show anytime I wanted.

The air shows grew old though, for a couple of reasons. For one, I saw how many news reports ran every year dedicated to the danger of fireworks, and they hit home for me. Then, when I turned 16, I saw living proof of what damage fireworks could do.

I worked as a cashier at Boomland that summer, and I saw many disfigured people come through the building on a quest for more fire power. People who were missing noses, fingers and other parts of their bodies STILL stood in long lines hefting bottle rockets and other things that went boom.

If they didn't learn a lesson, I sure did. If you don't know what you're doing, you should leave fireworks to the experts. And bottle rocket wars aren't fun because people can and do get hurt.

I don't have a passion for fireworks, and that lack of feeling has numbed me somewhat to the spirit of the holiday. Many people go out and about in celebration of the independence of their country, and lots of them take their fireworks with them.

As for me, I'll take my celebration at home ... in a well-lit room ... with the windows and doors shut ... tight.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.