Afterthoughts

My last post, about the Amelia Earhart Festival, left out one element of the festival that's always been important to me -- the traditional Saturday night display of fireworks. 

There've been many times I've sat beside my friend Louise (whom everyone else called Lou), oohing and ahhing as the pyrotechnical show entertained us, lighting up the sky above the Missouri River to the sounds of the 1812 Overture. 

This year, there was no Louise. After a long life she left us, but her absence wasn't the only thing that had changed for me about the fireworks. 

Ukraine, and specifically Odesa (which I've at least learned to spell the non-Russian way), where a man I've met -- in Atchison, no less -- still lives, in an apartment with his aged parents. Every time I hear about Odesa in the news, I can't help but worry about him and his family. His emails have reported the shriek of missiles flying overhead, on their way to some hideous destination, not long ago, a mall where he'd often shopped. 

Last night we were invited to a friend's place to get a strategically great view of the local (White Rock) fireworks display. And again, I admit to a few inward shudders when I heard their boom-booming noises. I know the fireworks we watched were strictly on display for entertainment, but because I've probably watched too much news coverage of this hideously destructive war on Ukraine, hearing those crackling sounds and deep booms has lost some of its appeal. I can't help but think they sound just a little too much like the sounds of machine guns and exploding bombs. 

Incongruities abound

Initially eager to observe this year's Canada Day, I hung the big flag outside the front door and charged ahead making a treat I usually only make at Christmas.

Butter tarts, a treat I think of as quintessentially Canadian, even though my recipe doesn't contain that most quintessentially Canadian ingredient, maple syrup.

Yet finding one last bucket of strawberries in the fridge from last Sunday's pick meant I was baking wintry treats in summer -- at the same time I was needing to slice berries for the freezer -- for wintry treats.

This somehow felt like a happy juxtaposition, a sunny kind of parallel, even complementary -- a yin and yang of seasons, of oven and freezer.

Tonight was another tradition -- the fireworks show on the beach in White Rock. As always, crowds of people streamed down the hills towards the sea, looking for the best vantage point for viewing. We managed a spot along the boardwalk, just below the train tracks that run the length of the beach. When we heard a train go by shortly before the show started, we thought that would be good to have it out of the way before everyone got down there.

But then in the midst of the celebratory display, not just one, but two more trains came through. Tanker cars, black. To me, ominous-looking as they rumbled along so close to those thousands of people -- young and old, so many families and groups of friends -- who'd been talking and laughing and pointing at the colours in the sky.

Black metal train cars carrying something toxic. Even their sound overshadowed the fireworks. American train on Canada Day. Talk about stealing someone's thunder.

A presentation by France sets me thinking...

Sometimes I wonder why I love fireworks. It's a fact though. I can't help it. I do.

And really, with all that's going on in the world, I wonder whether I'd feel the same way about all that fire and noise if I lived someplace else, where the sounds of rockets flying through the air might mean imminent destruction or even death. Even though I love them, fireworks sometimes make me think this way.

This has been the week for observing 100 years since the start of World War One, a war once thought of as the 'war to end all wars'. Sadly, we know that hasn't been the case. In fact, some now think that WWI might have been the war that started a whole new round of wars -- that without it, and the divisions of lands it caused, World War Two might have never happened -- and with it, the countless other disputes, so many of which continue.

For someone who dreams of peace, the idea of loving fireworks might seem contradictory. Still, standing as part of a throng of nearly half a million people, watching the Celebration of Light beside the Pacific Ocean on a warm summer night is something that stirs me. And really, for a show that's free to watch, is pretty darn hard to beat.

 

Fireworks night in Vancouver

Ah, Vancouver, there are some things that are just sooo right about the place. One of those is the annual Celebration of Light.

People started filling the beaches early in the day, some even staking out their spots with mini-tents. By sunset, it looked as though every inch was occupied.

Even the bay was filled with boats full of onlookers.

Saturday's show was presented by Vietnam. The remaining shows, Wednesday and Saturday, will feature Brazil and Italy.

The video below provides a little sample. If your speakers are on high, be prepared for a blast!

Saturday night fireworks show

Last night was the grand finale of Vancouver’s Symphony of Fire for 2007. I suppose China must have won, though really, how could they not – apparently they were previewing special effects for next year’s Olympics. With Vancouver as the next player in that particular money-eating exercise, well, really, China pretty much had to win.

I wasn’t dedicated enough to make the trek into the city, but settled instead for our hokey little Sea Festival fireworks show in White Rock. There were surprisingly few people down at the beach. I guess everyone else must have braved the traffic and buses and gone in for the biggies.

All in all, a lovely night seaside.