5th July 2001

Waiting for the fireworks at Fisherman’s Warf, I was watching the kids around me. The little boy next to me (not yet three years old) had a few of those white tissue-paper bits that explode when you throw them against the ground. He would get up on his tippy toes, reach one arm up as far as it would go, then slam the tissue paper against the pavement. As his total height�including the reach of his arm–was no more than about three feet, he wasn’t always successful. But when he was rewarded with a small pop, he’d scream:


Then he’d tug on his parent’s pants, mimic the great force with which he’d heaved the tiny explosive and say, “Fieyah go BOOM!”

10:59 a.m.