We have a yearly tradition of parking at a friends house in downtown Greenfield, having a big feast and then walking over to the fireworks. (they were on Friday)
This year one of the guests brought they’re three tenants, three quiet young men in their late 20’s. They recently moved here from Southwest Afghanistan and were all in the military.
Only one of them spoke enough English for me to effectively communicate with him. He was telling me about how happy they were to be in the US and away from the influence of the Taliban.
We all walked down to the big field in town for the fireworks and they were amazed at how many people turn out. They were also amazed and a little bit horrified that we celebrate our country with explosions in the sky. They were good sports about it but I could tell they were a little bit rattled by the big fireworks. It definitely made me pause to think about it as a tradition. “The rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air.”