Christmas has come and gone, the secrets which had been concealed within wrapping paper and kept beneath a tree are now out in the open.  Family and friends renewed bonds with traditional gatherings, gifts, food and drink.  Now there is a brief interlude preparing for the New Year, a time of reflection for the year passing and optimism for the coming year.

There are traditional parties that accompany the New Year, there are some staples that you will find at most of these parties black-eyed peas, cabbage, champagne, a kiss from a loved one and some type of fireworks.  Fireworks can range from the tame to the outrageous, the bottle popper to the highly explosive and this is where I come into the picture.

There is a traditional party my wife and I attend yearly out on the edge of civilization, somewhere between Cleveland and Splendora at a friend’s house.  After having some good food and adult beverages, JJ and I ply our trade as armature pyrotechnicians not trying to destroy his forty acre slice of Heaven on Earth.

Pyrotechnicians spend long hours of training learning how to ply their trade and gaining certification in the handling of explosives that we have come to know and love as fireworks.  These professionals work on somewhat a grander scale than JJ and I do but our show is impressive for two guys on a little back road in southeast Texas.

We have had training with fireworks since being little, both being from Texas we have handled some sort of small explosives all our lives.  When we were little all we had to work with was Black Cats, Bottle Rockets and Sparklers.  As Roman Candles came onto the scene, those glorious little sticks of shooting balls of colored fire, really gave a new dimension to a game called WAR.

Over the years of growing up, we each had our own stories of near brushes of sure death or dismemberment putting together firework shows in our backyards.  Then as we aged, our shows grew outside the confines of our backyards to that vacant lots and fields, as they left their confines so did our imaginations and what could be done with these little things known as fireworks.

Most of the mischief I got into with fireworks is what I would call on a need to know basis, due to the fact there are some of my childhood neighbors are still trying to figure out what happened to trash cans and alike.  There for a long time I refused to wear a hooded sweat shirt and sun glasses because it made me look like a mad bomber instead of a kid playing around with fireworks.

I guess with some of the things I experimented with I’m lucky to have all my fingers and sight intact.  Most of the time all was needed to take care of injuries was a little burn salve and maybe a stitch or two.  That was the least of my worries because after my father found out what had caused the injuries, I would need additional burn salve.

Enough of this walk down memory lane, JJ and I did not grow up together but we brought our common knowledge of fireworks together in putting on the New Years firework show for our friends.  If we could not be dangerous enough on our own, now they sell these things called Artillery Shells with launchers.

Our work normally begins around  eleven o’clock when the guys go out to the front drive, the basic idea in mind we start a quarter of a mile from the house and work our way back to the finally point which is closest the house.  Each stop with a different type of aerial, leaving room for one another to move with perceived safety from one station to another.

We take many factors in account while staging everything from the viewing area being a safe distance away to our own escape routes in the event something goes wrong, which are usually forgotten the moment the show begins.  On occasion a launcher will blow over sending us running for cover with the exception of the one in the direct line of fire.

The count down begins, JJ, I and the other lighters stage just prior to midnight, take one last sip of adult beverage and wish each other luck and assurance that we will meet again at the finally point all still in one piece.

The clock strikes twelve and we start off furthest from the house, a several hundred dollars later and a lot of smoke the show is over.  JJ, I and the other lighters miss everything other than the finally and the looks of spectators, which as we all know is the best part of the show.

A kiss to bring in the New Year with my wife and then it’s off for a little burn salve and with all hope I will be back in one piece to write my next column.

We wish all a Happy New Year and good luck to all the other amateur pyrotechnicians across the land.