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Rednecks and fireworks are a standard Independence Day combination.

Something about the adrenaline rush from the flame, short fuse, and subsequent explosion.  And the retelling of close-call stories.

This Fourth of July, I’m a little more concerned than usual.  Kentucky recently changed their fireworks laws, which means we no longer have to travel to Tennessee to purchase “the good stuff.”

Yes, when it comes to fireworks, there are categories.  And we definitely want the good stuff.

Because where there is fire, there should be something to blow up.  And not those whimpy little red things that you can find at any gas station. 

Unless you’re going to tie a dozen packs together.

As a kid, my family often took our vacation in the early summer.  My Mother made sure we brought back a supply of explosives that would put on a nice show for the neighbors. 

She was never the only one.

My husband grew up in the south and was a hero to his cousins who lived in Ohio, where there were stricter laws regarding fireworks.  They would place orders.  Large orders.  After narrowly escaping serious bodily injury and annoying all seven of their aunts with an evening of mayhem, they made money selling off the remaining supply.

In high school, a friend used to entertain himself by driving around neighborhoods with his windows down, throwing M-80s into people’s yards.  Until one blew back into his car.  And exploded in the back seat. 

Our kids have grown up loving July 4^th.  Even the year that he had the stomach flu, my older son watched from the living-room window while we shot off the year’s supply of pyrotechnics.

As he got older and became fiscally conservative, he would set aside money all year in order to blow it on something combustible for the Fourth of July celebration.  More than once, he would offer to pitch in for fuel if my husband was willing to drive to another state to get … “the good stuff.”  Because if you’re going to waste money on fireworks, they had better be good ones.

One of the best stops we ever made was a fireworks warehouse in Alabama.  We brought one of the purchases to friend’s house, as a hostess gift.  Her boys, ignoring all safety precautions, quickly set it off in the front yard of their beautiful home, right under the telephone wires, causing several moments of panic during the very loud and very volatile display. 

Whatever we purchase, we always make sure there is a supply to last all year.  Because after the celebration on the fourth, there is the last day of summer break, New Year’s Eve, birthdays and other celebratory occasions.  There is also the occasional stray cat or goat who wanders into the yard and isn’t deterred by a loud “Shoo.” 

There’s nothing like watching your husband chase goats out of the yard with a roman candle. 

This year, thanks to the new laws, or lack thereof, the good stuff is available locally at every roadside tent that has popped up since early June.  My boys have been frequenting  these places, sizing up the goods, and planning their purchases. 

I’m looking forward to the show.  And some new stories.