We spent Fourth of July with my friend Michelle and her family. Michelle and I met under stressful circumstances, when our sons were born and hospitalized in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. We were both dealing with disappointment and anxiety, sleeplessness and hormones, but still we hit it off and discovered we lived in the same neighborhood 20 miles from the hospital.

Since then we’ve navigated parenting, moving, and medical crises and celebrated lots of happy milestones together. Michelle shares my quick wit and naughty sense of humor, and when we’re together, the conversation gets steadily more outrageous and the laughter gets louder and louder. Where most people cut some discussions off with a “Let’s not go there,” Michelle and I always go THERE. We have a way of raising a ruckus and making our mild-mannered conservative husbands a little uncomfortable.

Wednesday night at the fireworks was no exception. The display was especially spectacular, and we were really enjoying it but anticipating the grand finale. A few times there were pauses in the program and then the fireworks would resume with rapid-fire launches.

V: “Faster, faster! Higher, higher!”

A series of colorful rings of light exploded into the air.

V to Michelle: “Look, it’s the Big Oh!”

Michelle: “Even better--multiple Ohs!”

V: “Multiple Ohs! I think I felt the earth move.”

Michelle: “Me too. I think I need a cigarette.”

V: “That was a great finish. I know I'll sleep well tonight.”

*****

This morning I woke up to an e-mail from our friend Bernie. He works in a multinational office with E in Belgium. (E is the only American.) The office members were invited to a Fourth of July celebration and decided to attend.

While attending the party, a Norwegian fellow asked Bernie, an Englishman, the following:

“Do you have Fourth of July in the UK?”

Bernie’s reply: “Of course we do. It’s right between the third and fifth of July.”

July 5, 2007