PETER BUFFA -- Comments & Curiosities

What to do, what to do. Another holiday, another decision. I used to

fret about doing something different whenever a holiday rolled around.

“We always do the same thing,” I’d say, in an annoying whine.

But now, in my sunset years, I have achieved an inner peace about the

holiday thing. It came to me some years ago in the middle of the night --

an epiphany in the midst of an infomercial. It was either Victoria

Principal’s skin care products or Suzanne Somers’ Thigh Master. Can’t

remember.

Anyway, I slid to an almost upright position in my recliner, slapped

my forehead and said, “That’s the whole point, you idiot. We’re supposed

to do the same thing every year! Tradition, nostalgia, memories of

holidays past, et cetera, et cetera.”

I then slipped back into my usual, semi-conscious nocturnal state, but

it was a life-changing experience nonetheless.

And so, we find the Birth of a Nation Celebration upon us once again.

Ever since that first July 4th rager in 1776, just outside Philadelphia’s

Independence Hall, we have tried our best to follow the advice that John

Adams offered in a letter to his wife, Abigail.

He was telling her about the events of the day. And what a day it was.

A few hours earlier, 12 of the 13 delegates to the Continental Congress

put their John Hancock’s, including John Hancock’s, on Tom Jefferson’s

“Declaration of Independence” from England.

“It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games,

sports, guns, bells bonfires and illuminations,” said Adams, “from one

end of this continent to the other, from this time forward, forevermore.”

John Adams was cranky, but he was a great party planner. There was

cheering and dancing and general carrying on in the streets and

afterwards, everybody went to Dennis Rodman’s house. Not really. I made

the last part up.

Afterwards, most of the delegates retired to the City Tavern, along

with as many revelers as could shove themselves through the door. City

Tavern stood at the corner of 2nd and Walnut, and that’s exactly where

you’ll find it today, still going strong. Ironically, Adams, Jefferson,

Franklin and company ran up a huge bill which, in all the excitement, was

never paid and hangs proudly behind the bar to this day.

The mother of all block parties continued through the night, fueled by

a whole lot of ale and rum. And there were fireworks, lots of fireworks,

known as “illuminations” at the time. Fireworks and the Fourth of July --

bright, red and gold threads in the American tapestry.

Does the City of Brotherly Love have a monopoly on Fourth of July

traditions? Don’t be silly. The Land of Newport-Mesa is steeped in fun

Fourth festivities.

On the big day, at Costa Mesa’s Veterans Memorial Hall, it’s the 20th

Annual Fourth of July Pancake Breakfast, from 7 a.m. to noon. I’m not

sure who’s up at 7 a.m. on the Fourth, but obviously someone is or there

wouldn’t be any pancakes.

At the Newport Dunes, the wham-bam fireworks show starts at 9 p.m.

sharp, just as it has for the past 43 years. Since 1958, can you imagine?

Eisenhower was president, cars were boats, father knew best and, most

important, the Yankees beat the Milwaukee Braves after being down three

games to one. That hadn’t happened since 1925. Isn’t this fascinating? I

knew you’d be thrilled.

Where were we? Oh yeah, Fourth of July. At American Legion Post 291 on

the Peninsula, the “Old Glory Boat Parade” shoves off at 1 p.m. It’s like the Christmas Parade of Lights, only warmer -- with blow up Sam’s instead

of Santa’s, bunting instead of garland, but just as much fun.

And of course, you can always go out in the driveway and light it up

yourself, assuming your driveway is in Costa Mesa. Buy the Safe & Sane

stuff only, from the local group of your choice, and when you drag

everything outside with you on the big night, make sure you don’t leave

your head in the house.

Keep a bucket of water handy for duds (fireworks, not people) and the

used cores, and don’t let anybody touch anything or get too close,

especially little kids. Every year, there is some confusion, dismay and

limited consternation about what is legal and what is not.

Let’s review. Before you light anything up, look at your feet. If they

are not standing in Costa Mesa, it’s illegal. If they are in Costa Mesa,

go ahead, but make sure it isn’t something that flies or goes boom.

Nothing you buy at the Safe & Sane fireworks stands flies or goes boom.

Lastly, even if you are in Costa Mesa, forget the sparklers. Not a

good thing. Bad. The wire core can start a fire or burn a hand long after

the sparkling part is done. Other than that, follow the directions, make

sure you engage brain before lighting the fuse, and have mass quantities

of fun.

But most of all, when the party is over, whatever the party is, set

aside one quiet moment and thank the deity of your choice that you live

in these United States. If you think 1958 was a long time ago, try this

from July 4, 1855. It’s from an editorial in a small paper called the

Daily Alta California: “Hallowed be the day, forever bright its memory in

the heart of the Nation. Sing to it, poets. Shout to it, freemen.

Celebrate it with bonfires, parades, and triumphant assemblies.”

A little stuffy, but I like it. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at PtrB4@aol.com.