Fireworks in the Rain
Growing up without a father in the home was hard, to be sure, but it's a lot harder on most families than it was for us because my Aunt Cindy had the good sense (and/or wildly fantastic fortune) to marry my Uncle Marc. If I had to sum up Uncle Marc in one word, it would be present. He is always paying attention, always appreciating, and always there for us.
Mention offhandedly that your toilet is acting up? Uncle Marc shows up the next visit with his toolbox in hand. Pull into their driveway with a broken tail light or low tires? When you come back out after lunch, it will be mysteriously fixed. My favorite was the time I slept over and Aunt Cindy asked me to help her remember to bring lip balm with her the next day; in the morning, when she and I had predictably forgotten that such a thing as lip balm even existed, we found a fresh tube of it sitting on the dashboard of her car.
Even when he's not there, he's there. Uncle Marc worked as a cross-country truck driver for many, many years, which kept him on the road every day except for weekends and, like, three holidays, but we always knew he was thinking about us. He brought home souvenirs and sent money for us to use for school clothes and other necessities; he even saved all his quarters up for us in case one would fill a gap in our National Parks quarters collection.
Fireworks with Uncle Marc began one Fourth of July when he surprised us with a variety pack he'd picked up on the spur of the moment. Uncle Marc's boyish delight in setting them off created an unparalleled accidental slapstick comedy routine. If it was a good one, he'd jump and yell as much as any kid present. If it was a dud, he'd unleash a barrage of dry, sardonic insults at it and drop-kick its smoky remains into the fire pit. Best of all was when one would veer off course - almost always directly toward him - and he'd yelp and scamper about like a jackrabbit. He never actually got hurt (he's far too fast and coordinated for that), but he put on a show better than any fairgrounds or waterfront or televised event.
Unfortunately, the world of transport and logistics is no respecter of family traditions. Uncle Marc was not always able to make it back exactly on the Fourth of July, but we always insisted on waiting to do fireworks with him whenever time allowed. Some years, we only ran a few weeks late, others it was more like months, but no matter how long it took, we always kept the bin of fireworks safe, dry, and put away until we could enjoy them together
We've had Fourth of July fireworks on the fifth of July, Labor Day, the middle of October, and even New Year's Eve. That's the one I will never forget because, as the night wore on, a misty rain began to descend over the yard. By the time we had our traditional closing sparklers, the smoke and water droplets had combined to create a magical, multi-colored fog over us all. Happy new year, indeed!
The most important thing a girl like me ever needed from a male role model was the keeping of promises, and that's what Uncle Marc gave and continues to give me. Fireworks don't always come when I expect or schedule or want them, but I never doubt they will happen. And when they do, rain or shine, they will be better than any substitute the entire rest of the world could offer.