I remember my childhood 4th of July celebrations fondly. Mostly because my father turned into a kid himself for that one day when he was able to blow things up.

Dad is a bit of a pyro. Case in point, last summer when my older boys went to Alaska to visit him they went to Denali National Park. Did my kids remember the splendor of the park, the majesty of the mountain and all of the wildlife? No. They came home raving about how they stopped at Nenana on the way there and bought monster fireworks. Which they then used to blowup, launch into the atmophere and generally obliterate a couple of Furbys, some plastic army men and one Elmo doll.

I just rolled my eyes when they related their experiments in demolition. Dad is, apparently, still possessed by a destructive five year old whenever he is faced with tubes full of gunpowder.

My most memorable 4th of July with dad took place at Quartz Lake outside of Delta Junction, Alaska. We always spent our holiday outside of town because the fireworks stands with the really big bangs were located far away from the population center of Fairbanks. 

Back then Quartz lake was a little visited campground most of the year. There was a dirt road, tons of spruce trees and a few small camping spaces.  There were more people there on the 4th than there usually were but it was still unpopulated and out of the way enough that my dad had plenty of room to play with with fireworks.

My mother wasn't crazy about his choice of location. It really is a heavily wooded area and mom, unlike dad, has a healthy respect for the power of fire and explosives. Didn't matter since dad, once he has decided on something, will not be moved. She gave it a valiant effort but dad insisted that since he would be angling them out over the lake there was no danger.

Mom went into I've married a child mode and watched the show with pursed lips and no comment.

It really is fun to watch my work-a-holic father cut loose. He giggles like a 5 year old and points and carries on with a kind of unfettered joy that he normally never displays. You can see the kid he was before he got so caught up in keeping up appearances and being the most successful person he knows.  The memory of our 4th of July celebrations or that time we went boogie boarding in Hawaii  still make me smile.

That year's display was quite something else. He had bought the biggest, furthest launching, most colorful fireworks he could.  My siblings and I oohed and awwed and got as caught up in it as he was. There was only one dud that launched but went kind of screwy and fizzled out over the trees without igniting.

Once the fireworks were all lit dad decided that he was going to take our little boat out into the lake while we set up camp and cooked some food. I was dragging the cooler over to the fire pit when I noticed that there was smoke pouring up from the ground about 10 ft. from our car.

I ran over there to investigate and found a smoldering perfect ring of fire. I was about 12 years old at the time and so I did what all kids do and yelled for my mother. It was pretty obvious that the screwy firework had come down there and had ignited once it hit the ground. I didn't know what to do about it, but I knew something had to be done.

My mother's first thought was to move the car. However, my father, obsessive door locker and keeper of the keys, had locked the car up and was now out in the middle of the lake with them safely in his pocket.  We had to come up with plan B.

Plan B was for me to run down to the lake and try to get dad's attention. I ran down to the lake but dad and his boat were a tiny little speck out there in the lake. I waved and yelled and he did eventually see me but he just  waved back since he couldn't hear me yelling for him.

My antics on the shores of the lake caught the attention of some of our fellow campers. A blonde god asked me what all the fuss was about. I say that in humor but to me, at 12 and just figuring out what this girl/boy thing was all about, he seemed like the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen. He was probably all of 19 but he was tanned and toned and talking to me. I was instantly smitten.

When he rounded up his fellow Air Force buddies and they all trotted up to our site and efficiently put out the fire he became my hero. I fantasized about that boy for years.

The fire had been beaten into submission for a good 40 minutes before dad decided to come back to shore. He could tell something was amiss when my mother met him, hands on her hips, eyes flashing and said, "Well, Jefferson, I hope you are happy."

Dad was of course clueless why she was so pissed off. When mom explained to him exactly how he had endangered us all he unwisely said, "Oh, I saw the smoke and I thought, Wow, someone must have a good bonfire going."

My mother looked like she was going to go up like one of the roman candles we lit earlier. Which for some reason caused my dad to start laughing. I really thought that my mother was going to pick up a rock and brain him with it. I don't think I've ever seen her so pissed at my dad before or since. She didn't, though. She stomped off to the campsite muttering things to herself.

I've had memorable 4th of Julys since then, but none that have stuck in my memory with quite the clarity as the one where dad almost burned down Quartz Lake state park.  I can see the humor in it now and understand why my dad laughed like he did. Don't tell my mother, though. I suspect she's still pissed about it.