The Apex of Summer

The distant sound of firecrackers stopped us in our tracks. It was the clarion call to all the neighborhood kids that the Fourth of July was fast approaching.

We had already finished Bible school, wisely scheduled for us Lutheran kids the first week of summer vacation. It was more a test of endurance than an increase in faith as we watched filmstrips of Bible stories, each frame manually advanced at the beep from a scratchy record.

We made our obligatory popsicle stick crosses with the burned ends and before we knew it, the week was over. By having Bible school early, we beat the heat and didn’t need to think about it all summer. We envied the Catholic school kids because they didn’t have to attend Bible school. But they were quick to remind us that they had it every day during the school year.

Now we could focus on the big day. First, we needed firecrackers. But firecrackers were illegal. You couldn’t just get an adult to bring you to a fireworks store in Wisconsin to buy them, like you can now. But even back then there was always someone selling them. You just had to find them.

I remember my dad buying firecrackers from a guy in Bay City who was selling them from the trunk of an old Ford Falcon backed up to a hillside. Dad looked pretty nervous. But with hushed tones, the deal was quickly done. I don’t think he was very experienced at this sort of transaction. Norwegian Lutherans usually aren’t.

The funny thing is, we really didn’t blow off a lot of firecrackers on the Fourth. There was too much else to occupy our time. And we knew better than to blow them off in crowds. We saved most of them for other days when there was nothing to do, lighting them one at a time to get our money’s worth.

The parade and evening fireworks were the highlights of the day. During those years, the parade traveled from somewhere on Plum St. up to Corner Grocery (Kwik Trip now), then followed Seventh St. all the way to Colvill Park. It was hard to find a place to sit on either side of the street. And it was a long parade, nearly three miles.

Relatives from Wisconsin would come to watch the parade, which passed right in front of our house. Some of those relatives were dairy farmers, driving 80 miles just get away from chores for a little while. We set out our lawn chairs and sat next to the street.

The parade had things you still see such as clown cars with squirt guns, Shriners in go-carts, royalty from Red Wing and other towns, fire trucks, and police cars. But you also saw something not seen much anymore – marching bands. Lots of them. I think there was also less electioneering and blatant advertising, although I didn’t pay any attention to them unless they threw candy.

But even a really long parade must end and then, for a short time, things were a little sad. We had a little lunch and then the Wisconsin relatives had to head home to start their evening chores. We were saying our final goodbyes when someone remembered the water fights at Colvill Park. We raced down there walking sideways through the crowds to get to them near the old swimming pool. The Red Wing Fire Dept. would face a fire dept. from a nearby town, such as Goodhue or Zumbrota, trying to spray a barrel on a wire across the line on the other team’s side. We purposely got in close so we would get wet.

By the time we got home, we were hot and tired. We shook off the dirt and dust from our clothes and shoes and sat down for a much-needed rest so we could gear up for the final highlight of the day – the fireworks show.

Back then, the fireworks were sent up from the island just across the main channel at Colvill Park. An aerial bomb let us all know it was starting. One year, right at the start, a lot of the bombs went off haphazardly. We thought it was part of the show but we soon sadly realized that someone had lit the wrong fuse or something. Show over.

If you watched the fireworks at the park you got a stiff neck unless you were stretched out on the ground. Then you saw a great canopy of twinkling lights as they exploded. If you watched them from the top of Memorial Park near the Sugar Loaf, you could catch everything, including fireworks going off in neighboring towns on down the Wisconsin side of the river. Either way, it was magical for us kids.

We were so wound up when we got home, we were certain we would be able to stay up all night. But the second our heads hit our pillows we were down for the count.

Over time, these big parades died off. I think they just got to be too big, the route was too long, and traffic became a nightmare. Some people just wanted to do their own thing with their families. The energy to organize a parade and fireworks was eventually diverted to River City Days.

The Fourth of July was symbolically the end of the first half of summer vacation for us. During June we felt sure that summer would never end. But after the big holiday, things started to slow down. It always got hotter and drier and, even though there were a lot of fun days ahead of us, we knew that we were starting the downslide toward school again.

At least we still had some firecrackers left.