Saturday night as I'm laying in bed my generally quiet neighborhood erupted into a series of loud pops and bangs. My dogs launched off their beds to defend the household, matching the volume of the outside noises with their barks. I flailed around in my zombie-like state to the back windows to see what was going on. My mind feared the worst, given the gun violence in our country. Despite the safety of my East End neighborhood I am very aware that any growing city will have it's struggles with crime.

But when I got the windows overlooking the street outside, I could see bright sizzles of light that followed the pops and bangs. Ah yes, fireworks. It's fireworks season. 


My favorite game to play this time of year is called "Fireworks or Firearms?" I just love laying in bed and wondering if the pops and bangs are neighborhood kids playing with Roman candles or neighborhood kids shooting up the place. It's super unsettling.

I've always had the same stance on fireworks. I enjoy the grand display of lights on the Fourth of July, but unless you are the paid professionals creating a stellar display on the Eastern Promenade to celebrate our country's birthday, please take your colorful explosives outside of the densely populated Portland Peninsula.

And stay off my lawn! Who's with me?

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