Ever since I moved to Iowa the Fourth of July has actually begun just after dark on July third. My family, and whatever cousins or friends were visiting, would pile into the truck (and other vehicles as needed) and head out to a neighbor's farm. There we would begin the very Midwestern ritual of frog hunting. For those of you who don't come from a small farming town, frog hunting is exactly what it sounds like. We go in groups out to the local ponds, armed with flashlights, nets, and five gallon buckets, to catch ourselves some good jumping frogs. The art of frog hunting is 99% holding patiently still and 1% lightening fast frog grabbing action. The time tested procedure is a three man operation, and for us it was always the same. Man one is the catcher, this is the person with quick hands and steady legs. It's their job to wade into the water and wait for the frogs to surface. Man two is the lighting expert, this person needs to have steady hands and good eye sight. It's their job to spot the frogs and then shine the flashlight into the frogs eyes. This blinds the frogs temporarily, allowing the catcher a better chance of retrieving them. Man three is the bucket guard, this person needs to be strong and watchful. It's their job to carry the bucket full of pond water and frogs around the pond, open it for the catcher to deposit their frogs, and keep the already caught frogs from escaping. By the end of the night, which usually falls shortly after midnight so that we have ample time to wish everyone a "Happy Fourth of July!", we would have a bucket filled with frogs that we prayed would jump as well in the morning as they did when we tried to catch them that night.
Despite the late night out, the Fourth of July always began bright and early. The pancake breakfast started at 6am, but we usually didn't roll in until 7:30 or 8. Then it was off to register for the Firecracker Frog Jump, the reason for our night time escapades. The Frog Jump was always one of my favorite activities, and it was something wonderfully small town Iowa that I loved to share with visiting relatives. It involves place the frog you recently caught into a hula hoop in the center of the ring. Then, without touching the frog, you have to get it to jump twice. The judge then measures the distance from the center of the hoop to where your frog landed, and whichever frog jumped the farthest in each age category is declared the winner. Sounds simple enough, but I assure you that there is an art to it. You have to know which frog to pick, where to set them, and how to encourage them to make life risking long jumps. I won a few times over the years, but my family had a reputation for always bringing a winning outsider. It's often said that those who can't do teach, and I was apparently one hell of a teacher.
After the Frog Jump the day really began. The Quilt Show and Flower Show open, with their lovely displays, then it's time for the car, tractor, and engine show. Then there's the big wheels race and a Haystack Money Hunt for the younger kids (which is exactly what it sounds like, kids digging through haystacks for money). Then there's lunch at the Presbyterian church, which is always homemade and delicious. Once you've had your fill of delicious food it's time to find a spot on the sidewalk to watch the parade! Our parade always had a theme, and floats and cars and people came from all over Iowa to participate and see our parade. When I was little the parade meant crowding on the sidewalk and catching all the candy, or perhaps building a float or a costume to try and win one of the parade categories. For the last five years or so though, it has meant setting up a speaker system, collecting out of order cards, and announcing the parade. It's always a lot of work announcing the parade, but it's fun to be part of something like that.
Once the parade is over it's time to head over to the park. That's where they have carnival games, a petting zoo, carnival rides, carnival food, and of course plenty of places to buy glowsticks and poppers and all other manner of celebration paraphernalia. After you've had a good run around dinner is served at the school, complete with homemade pie and ice cream (which beats store bought by miles). Once you feel full to bursting the best part of the evening begins. Everyone grabs a lawn chair or a blanket and sets it out in the football field by the school. There's a DJ playing music, you buy buttons or tickets for raffle prizes, they give out the prizes which range from gas cards to a brand new outdoor grille, then just before dusk the skydivers jump down carrying the American Flag. But the true magic, the reason that people have gathered in my tiny town from all across the neighboring area, begins shortly after dark. That's when the little town I grew up in sets off the largest fireworks display in SE Iowa. Nothing compares to being just a few hundred feet away from where the fireworks are launched. Lying in the grass and looking straight up as they burst will always be one of my favorite things about summer.
Eventually the fireworks end, usually with a truly fantastic finale, and when the last spark goes out the night ends as well. The crowd swells with applause and then, almost as one, everyone stands, gathers their things, finds their cars, and goes home. It's funny that the day can build up so much and then just end like that. Knowing what my Fourth of July is usually like, you can see that one spent seeing a couple of movies and working at Universal may seem a little dull. I feel like I didn't actually celebrate the holiday, but I was thinking of my friends and family back home enjoying the small town celebration that I'm only just now realizing is a big deal. Happy Independence Day!
Until tomorrow.
