This evening I wandered down the block to Broadway to watch the fireworks. I got there a bit early so I talked with some sidewalk folks in front of the Broadway Bar. The fireworks finally began at 9:30, and in between starbursts and weeping-willow displays I talked with several of Hannibal’s part-time hookers. These women tend to be good-looking and middle-aged; I get the impression that they are making hay while the sun of relative youth still shines — they know they are getting older and that the time will come when such part-time money will be harder to come by. The men they are with tend to be drunk and can be easily dismissed as conversational fodder, while the women either know how to hold their liquor or aren’t drinking at all.
Other folks had brought folding chairs and there were small kids running to and fro. People talked about last year’s display, when a cloud hugged the top of Lover’s Leap (where the fireworks are set off) and the fireworks were but dimly visible through the drizzly haze.
Happy fourth, everyone!