I love fireworks. Any night, anywhere, for any reason, or no reason.

Fireworks are a light in the darkness, a metaphor for wisdom enlightening ignorance, kindness lifting sorrow, a void being filled with beauty. They are an embodiment of human ingenuity and the divine spark within us all.

Fireworks are an example of the fragile and temporary nature of existence — a flash of unspeakable glory that fades and disappears, and must be cherished while it lasts. Fireworks are a reminder to stop what you’re doing, look up, be awed.

I have watched the Davis fireworks from the roof of my house, and from clearings on the North Davis greenbelt, but what I love best is to get as close as I can, squirming deep into the crowd, where I can feel the explosions in my breastbone and smell the smoke and dodge the ash.

The thousands of neighbors watching with me enhance the experience: cuddled together on our blankets like a heap of puppies, we worship together, live in the moment, share our gasps of joy. After the finale, we all amble homeward from the Church of Pyrotechnics, filled with good will and camaraderie.

I give thanks for fireworks whenever they happen, and since I’ll never be able to buy a display for my own pleasure, I am grateful to the businesses who pay for them. I wish some organization in Davis would step up to organize a First Night celebration on New Year’s Eve, like those I’ve seen in other cities, with a night of street music and dancing capped off by fireworks at midnight.

How about it, churches and fraternal organizations? How better to symbolize humanity, divinity, fraternity, creativity and appreciation of our blessings? And what better time than at the turn of the year, when the slate is fresh and potential waits for us when we get home?

Liz King

Davis

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