Beautiful Explosions – The Joy of Fireworks
At Dean’s World
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve liked fireworks. Back in the early 70s before society’s Self-Appointed Nannies banned them in most places, I remember traveling across the county line with my sister and her husband to buy boxes of Black Cat bottlerockets in “grosses”, firecrackers in “bricks” and “sticks” of Roman Candles. Oh, just to make those nannies cringe today I might mention that I did so in the back of a station wagon unbelted and with the tailgate window rolled down.
Summer to me will always mean the smell of black powder and the incense-like “punks” that were used to light the fireworks. Add in the sound of a lit fuse and the staccato bursts of a pack of firecrackers to silence the whining cicadas, and you have an idea of what summer was like for me growing up in the midwestern suburbs in the ‘70s.
But by far the best memories are of the fireworks shows I attended. In those days each shell was lit by a man with a red railroad flare, and the sight of that flare as the dusk deepened was a sign that the fireworks were minutes away.
Looking at fireworks as an adult, I see something very Zen about anticipating the explosion of a firework and fully appreciating its beauty for the few seconds it lasts. It is an ethereal beauty that cameras and videos cannot really fully capture, but one that leaves an afterglow that in some instances may persist for years, at least in memories.
A Zambelli Display
I mention this today because I recently attended a show at the local “Ice Cream Festival” and saw some of the most beautiful explosions I have ever seen.
Shaped charges of blood red outlined hearts and iridescent blue stars peppered the nighttime sky. Aerial waterfalls with streams of light that cascaded down for hundreds of feet. Explosions of circles within circles around a bright white core like gigantic atoms in the sky. Oval bursts of white light between sprays of gold, red and purple appeared like giant fiery butterflies. Traces of gold lines crossed and connected making the sky appear cross-hatched with gleaming golden thread.
At some shows those who paint the sky with light tend to rely upon amount to impress the audience. However this show excited the crowd with its breathtaking designs and use of color alone. Every explosion added to the overall piece – nothing was wasted. There was never a moment when you felt bored with the show, when you looked at your watch and wondered how fast you could get to the car to beat the crowd.
I would have to say that this was the first time I have ever appreciated the true art involved with fireworks displays. There was an artistry apparent in the skies – in the timing of the explosions, in their placement, even in their design. The carefully sculpted light brought out a child-like wonder in me, and for a few minutes I felt like a kid again, entranced by a beautiful and magical display of light and explosions.
Of course there is science behind the magic. There are journals devoted to fireworks with articles such as “Application of Semenow’s and Frank-Kamenstskii’s Thermal Ignition Theories to Firework Reactions”. I don’t know if the journal is peer reviewed but it wouldn’t surprise me. Even NOVA - one of the two shows worth watching on PBS (the other being Antiques Roadshow) did an episode on the science behind the magic of fireworks.
I spoke to Anthony Clark, one of the organizers of the Ice Cream Festival, and learned that Zambelli was the company hired for the display. He states that Zambelli has been used at the Festival for years because of their record of quality and safety – an absolute necessity since the show occurs over the historic Rockwood Mansion. According to Clark, Zambelli mixes its own gunpowder and then ships it to China for packaging into the fireworks it has designed. This helps the firm to maintain a strict level of quality control over each shell. And the quality was apparent. Considering that the show occurs over a mansion in a densely populated suburb, not a single spark appeared to go astray or hit the ground while alight.
I recognize that The Kid will never have the same memories I do of the infamous M-80 launching a sewer lid 20 feet in the air. But he will have the memories of the fireworks show we saw last night. Each of our memories are our own, but I hope that when he takes his children to a fireworks show he will remember the magic we shared under a sky painted with beautiful explosions.
