The Great Bottle Rocket War of '85

I've always loved the Fourth of July.

The fireworks, cookouts, staying out too late... it's always been one of my favorite holidays.

Of course, when you're fourteen years old, your definition of "celebrating" isn't always the smartest.

Back then, a friend and I thought bottle rocket fights and Roman candle fights were perfectly reasonable ideas. We only had one rule.

Don't intentionally aim for the head.

Looking back, that probably wasn't the safety plan we thought it was.

One Fourth of July, we went to his house with what seemed like an endless supply of bottle rockets. We piled them all together, each grabbed one small pack, and took off.

He was easing his way across the yard.

I spotted him.

I lit the very first bottle rocket of the night, tracked him as he moved, waited until just the right moment, and let it fly.

It was perfect.

It was headed straight for his waist.

Then... something happened.

To this day, I swear it looked like there was an invisible force field around him. The bottle rocket got within a couple of feet of him, curved around him like it hit an invisible wall, and took off in a completely different direction.

It landed right in the middle of our giant pile of about two thousand bottle rockets.

The next few minutes were complete chaos.

Bottle rockets were shooting in every direction. Neither one of us was safe. His parents thought we'd blown up the garage.

Our epic bottle rocket war lasted exactly one shot.

We got into a little trouble...

But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't one of the funniest Fourth of July memories I have.

Funny how that works.

I don't remember what I got for my birthday that year.

But I do remember exactly what shoes I was wearing.

Red and white checkerboard slip-on Vans.

Funny the things your mind decides are important.

I can still see that bottle rocket curve through the air like it happened yesterday.

That's what memories do.

They don't hang on to the things we expect. They hang on to the moments that made us laugh, surprised us, or simply reminded us we were alive.

Maybe that's one of the reasons I love photography so much.

We can't create those moments.

Life does that all by itself.

Photography just gives us a way to visit them again.

I hope your Fourth of July gives you a story worth telling for years to come.

And maybe leave the bottle rocket fights to my generation.