More from the Back Porch

"Bob's post has gotten me to thinking which is good because I've been a useless blob for weeks now."

I doubt that.

"Poppy had a refrigerator on the back porch and I thought, as a youngster, that this was most interesting. There was a refrigerator in the kitchen AND ANOTHER ONE on the back porch. Such luxury!!"

Yes, and I almost mentioned the refrigerator…but I thought the previous post was long enough. That, and I wanted to tie in straight to the fireworks while it was still kind of timely.

What I remember about that fridge…
It was bigger than the one in the kitchen,
I think it ran on Propane,
And on the top of the left side our uncle Buddy had written something in magic marker, in his secret code. The letters had extra lines, slashes or curlicues on them, but it looked something like

VBBS

Bud had showed me his secret code alphabet once, and I sure wish I had drawn a copy (I’ve been interested in alphabets and codes since grade school). Anyway, “VBBS” was his code for LSSI, which stood for “Loyal Southern Sons International”. I don’t know if this was something he and his friends came up with, or if it was all in his head. I do recall us play acting a meeting once, where we were supposed to stand when the national anthem was sung. Bud then stood and started to sing “Dixie”, and I just sat there looking at him. (That’s not our national anthem!)

He kidded me about that, something to the effect of “What do they teach you kids in that school up north?”. That LSSI meeting only happened once, a fun diversion for a summer afternoon. I do remember hearing various members of the family say “The South shall rise again!”.

More than once.

"I don't recall what exactly was kept out there early on…"

I’m not sure, but I suppose whenever he’d get a good buy in bulk quantities, or when he was given more food than the other fridge would hold. Maybe Connie would remember. Or your mom.

And I don’t remember how Poppy came to have that second refrigerator in the first place. Maybe it was given to him.

"...but I do recall some Buckhorn being there later, I suspect to help manage whatever ailment eventually took Poppy's life."

Buckhorn was cheap, and it wasn’t that good a beer. Er, um…so I heard. Yeah, that’s it.

"Bob, I also remember your mom being laid up on a bed on the back porch after an ugly encounter with some sizeable thorns during one of your visits. I don't recall any details except that as, again a young boy, it seemed like she had to stay in bed an awfully long time."

Mike, I had forgotten that, but yeah…sizeable wasn’t the word. I’d never seen thorns more than an inch long until then. She got infected from that, and was in bed some days. It ruined that trip to the farm for her, and I seem to recall we delayed our trip home an extra day or two.

I also slept on that bed during another trip, and I remember it being the tallest bed in the house. You really had to climb up to get on it.

"I do remember the fireworks displays that we had at the farm - it was great fun! It seemed as if the dark would never come."

Truly, the high point of the day.

"I remember watching my dad hold a roman candle out to his side while it discharged and thought that was one of the coolest things ever"

I had forgotten until you mentioned it, but I remember your dad getting into the fireworks show. What a time…not only the fireworks, but lightning bugs and a darker sky with more stars than you could see in the city. And we had the energy of youth without all the cares of adulthood.

"I begged and begged to be allowed to do that and finally he let me...And when it was all done, it wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be. Bob, was the balsa glider actually your first rocket? Do you have Bud to thank for your hobby?"

Well, not really, though I’m not sure now what year we did the bottle rocket powered glider flight. That glider was mainly Bud’s project.

As for model rocketry, I discovered that in 1967 when a classmate of mine told me “There’s these really cool rockets you can buy in the hobby store. You put them together and they really fly”. I found an ad in a magazine, it was either “Boy’s Life” or “Popular Science”, so I sent in for an Estes catalog.

(Do I still have my first Estes catalog? Why, yes!)

My birthday was approaching, so I asked for and got an Astron Alpha. Then later for Christmas, my dad surprised me with a homemade launch system and a tool box I used for my first range box.

Now I could go on and on, The Hobby has given me a great deal of fun over the years. But that would make this a long post indeed, so I’ll save that for another time.

And of course, there’s much more I could say about those days at Poppy’s farm. Great times, but they sure went by fast. So, I’ll post this much now, and compose more later.

So Mike, what’s your favorite memory about Grandma, Poppy, Uncle Bud…their house and the farm?

The Back Porch and Some Fireworks

Bob's post has gotten me to thinking which is good because I've been a useless blob for weeks now.

Poppy had a refrigerator on the back porch and I thought, as a youngster, that this was most interesting. There was a refrigerator in the kitchen AND ANOTHER ONE on the back porch. Such luxury!! I don't recall what exactly was kept out there early on, but I do recall some Buckhorn being there later, I suspect to help manage whatever ailment eventually took Poppy's life.

Bob, I also remember your mom being laid up on a bed on the back porch after an ugly encounter with some sizeable thorns during one of your visits. I don't recall any details except that as, again a young boy, it seemed like she had to stay in bed an awfully long time.

I do remember the fireworks displays that we had at the farm - it was great fun! It seemed as if the dark would never come. I remember watching my dad hold a roman candle out to his side while it discharged and thought that was one of the coolest things ever. I begged and begged to be allowed to do that and finally he let me after much coaching and warning.

And when it was all done, it wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be.

Bob, was the balsa glider actually your first rocket? Do you have Bud to thank for your hobby?

Poppy's Back Porch

Walk with me now a few steps from Poppy’s front porch, through his house. Why? I guess because I’ve been very nostalgic lately. One thing I’ve been thinking about is how clearly I can recall certain sounds in my memory; that’s not a new realization. I can see things “in my mind’s eye” from years ago, but the sounds come to mind more clearly for some reason. Better than my ability to explain here in writing.

Walk through the door into the living room. Wait, there I am in the chair by the south window, Poppy is sitting in his chair by the entrance to the kitchen, and my dad is sitting across from me in the chair in front of the built in bookcase. All three of us are reading, and my dad and Poppy are smoking their pipes. I hear the clink of dishes as mom washes them in the kitchen sink. It’s a July evening, just getting dark and still hot. The tree frogs and whippoorwills are starting to sing, but the only other sound from inside the house is the hum of the oscillating fan. Not a word has been spoken for a while. In fact, I remember that at the time I noticed the quiet, and the peace that came from being with family, in a place I loved, and at an age when I had few worries.

Now if we continue through the kitchen we’ll come to Poppy’s back porch, an interesting place in it’s own right. As for sounds, sometimes you’d hear the tinkle of glass wind chimes near the screen windows. When the water pressure got low, you’d hear a click as the motor for the well pump came on in the pump house, just to the north. But what I remember most was the distinctive rattle of the big, old doorknob and lock on the back door, as someone came in from outside, or went out. Impossible to describe in words, but I’ll never forget it.

Happy 18th of July!

Poppy was born July 18, 1902; if he were still here with us he’d be 106 today. Almost every year we would drive to his place in Taney County to celebrate his birthday. Mike and his family would come over from Branson, there would be good food, and sometimes the cousins and I would act out little plays for Poppy and the other adults in the audience. These were usually spoofs of popular TV shows or commercials.

And usually there would be fireworks. One year when I was young, I didn’t get all my fireworks shot off on the fourth…I think we were rained out. It was explained to me that I could take what I had left over to the farm, and since Poppy lived out in the country we could shoot the works for his birthday.

Then of course one year we didn’t get them all fired on the 18th either. I had brought them in a red cardboard box, with a label I’d made with FIREWORKS written in black Magic Marker. Poppy allowed me to keep the fireworks until the next year; he put the box on a shelf high on the east wall of his back porch. I’m actually kind of amazed that he let me keep the fireworks there when I think back on it. That tradition carried on a few years. I would bring more fireworks down, and we’d shoot both new and old fireworks. Some of them were probably five years old. I remember saying that once, and someone commenting that they probably wouldn’t light. But the old ones worked great…sometimes better than the new ones I’d bought.

Then there was the year that Uncle Buddy and I decided we’d try to make our own fireworks. I had a book, “Magic With Chemistry”, that had a few formulas. So, I brought down my chemistry set, and Buddy had his. Fortunately for us both – for our safety - the authors of the book wisely left out a key step in the process, and everything we made fizzled.

One year though we did try something interesting. I had figured out that I could tape two or three bottle rockets together and carefully twist their fuses together. I made a few of those clustered bottle rockets, which worked pretty well. That got Buddy to thinking. He had a balsa glider he was willing to sacrifice for the cause, the idea being to break the sticks off the bottle rockets and tape them to the wings as jet engines. I don’t recall how many bottle rockets we used, but it was the same number on each wing. Buddy set up a ramp or wood or plywood, at an angle away from our audience. When the time was right, the fuses were lit. The little glider didn’t stay airborn for long, but it did pretty good with a nice arcing flight. Some of the bottle rocket “jet engines” were the kind with a report, so that modified glider’s flight was it’s last.

Well, I wouldn’t do that today, and I don’t recommend it. Fireworks pose enough risk without doing any modifications to them, even something as slight as taping them to a balsa glider.

Dud fireworks or dud neighbors?

Mike, thanks for the report.

"We moved into the city in January from the county where fireworks are not only legal, they are revered...Some enthusiastic adherants conducted services until well after 11 pm nightly...until the 4th and beyond. It is also clear that there are other acceptable seasons...such as Christmas, New Years, the Super Bowl to name a few, however the guidelines proscribing these observances are less than clear."

I don't too much mind the 11 pm cutoff...on July 4th itself. But I can understand what it would be like to have neighbors ruin it with "too much of a good thing" that week. New Years, well, a few, okay. But Christmas? The Super Bowl?

"A large church (mega!) in our area puts on a big display every year at the Springfield Underground. We went one time and I'll never go again. Mind you the display is great...But the parking and the finding a spot (in the sun!) to sit and wait and the sweat and the humanity and the garbled music and announcements and the traffic to leave...However, the park across the street from my new house provides a nearly unobstructed view of this very same fireworks display. So, I sat in my air conditioned home until about ten minutes until the fireworks were to be shot. My wife and I grabbed lawn chairs...Less than five minutes later we were seated comfortably in an ideal location...The show began. We saw it all. Approximately 15 minutes later we walked home...before hundreds of people, who saw the exact same show, had their cooler repacked."

Yeah, that's the way. Don't mess with the traffic, the crowds, the heat. Glad you have a good view near your new home.

Dud Report

So the 4th of July was about 10 days ago and now here's a report. Like a fireworks dud, it's late. It remains to be seen if it's a dud in more ways than one.

We moved into the city in January from the county where fireworks are not only legal, they are revered. Worship usually began there during the second week in June. Some enthusiastic adherants conducted services until well after 11 pm nightly. This would continue until the 4th and beyond. It is also clear that there are other acceptable seasons during which a county resident may express his faith such as Christmas, New Years, the Super Bowl to name a few, however the guidelines proscribing these observances are less than clear.

This year was entirely different. We now live in city limits where fireworks are illegal. I heard, at the most, a half dozen reports from bottle rockets and such. So very quiet!

A large church (mega!) in our area puts on a big display every year at the Springfield Underground. We went one time and I'll never go again. Mind you the display is great - the best I've ever seen. But the parking and the finding a spot (in the sun!) to sit and wait and the sweat and the humanity and the garbled music and announcements and the traffic to leave - oy! This guy, again, never. However, the park across the street from my new house provides a nearly unobstructed view of this very same fireworks display. So, I sat in my air conditioned home until about ten minutes until the fireworks were to be shot. My wife and I grabbed lawn chairs and walked up the street. Less than five minutes later we were seated comfortably in an ideal location. We waited for the show. The show began. We saw it all. Approximately 15 minutes later we walked home. We were home before hundreds of people, who saw the exact same show, had their cooler repacked.

That's what I call Independence!

Blasts from the past

Happy Fourth of July to one and all! And remember, Independence Day is about more than just fireworks.

Okay, I felt like I had to put that last part in...now let's talk about fireworks! When I was little, maybe four or five, my dad showed me how to light fireworks, and he made sure I knew how important it was to do so safely and not take stupid chances. I've always enjoyed them...still do.

I remember there were a couple of years I spent time in the days leading up to the Fourth drawing these pictures; really getting geared up for the afternoon and evening celebration. The black and white drawing above is an inventory I made of what I had on hand. The Y (yes) are the ones I had some of, and the N (no) indicated what I needed to buy at the tent.

I haven't seen pinwheels in years. For those who don't know, there were two shapes, built around a flat pasteboard center. When lit, the pinwheel would spin and the sparks would fly out like a wheel of fire...really pretty at night. One shape was a spiral charge wrapped around a circular cardboard disk. The other kind had three seperate charges connected by fuse, arranged around a triangular cardboard. On those, the first charge would set the pinwheel spinning, then it would coast for a bit less than a second, then the second charge would start...then likewise the third. Quite a show. On either type of pinwheel, there was a dot printed on the center. The instructions suggested you nail it to a tree. We weren't real fond of that suggestion. First, we didn't like the idea of driving nails into our trees. And second, if you weren't careful about the placement, the pinwheel could catch on a rough piece of bark and come to a stop...ruining the effect. So what we did most times was nail them to an old wooden stepladder.

The firework I drew in the center left is something else I haven't seen in ages. I don't remember what it was called, but it had the spiral shape of a pinwheel and you would lay it on a sidewalk or driveway and light it. It would spin around and then a small charge at the end would blow it up. Not much of a report, like a ladyfinger firecracker.

Nowadays, you can get a similar effect with "ground bloom flowers". No nails have to be driven into trees, and in fact, they're a better firework.

Back to the art, such as it was. One year, I started days early and drew my own fireworks handbook. This was sometime in the mid 1960's (click on image to enlarge).

It's odd, now that I look this over again, it seems I left out smoke bombs. Maybe I discovered those later.

This year we plan to go to a park and watch a professional display, and if that's also your plan, have a great celebration! But if you prefer and if you're in a place where you can legally shoot off your own fireworks, please do so safely; a little common sense goes a long way. Always follow the directions...let's see, how does that go...

USE OUTDOORS ONLY UNDER ADULT SUPERVISION.
LIGHT FUSE AND GET AWAY.

(Or as the British say, IGNITE TOUCH PAPER AND RETIRE IMMEDIATELY.)