Happy July Second, Kevlar!

 This is a repost, because now that fireworks are an all-summer thing my nerves are shot. Also because I've been busy promoting the reissued Storm Chaser, which is, after all, set in summer.

 John Adams, signer of the Declaration of Independence, Second U.S. President, and all around unpleasant guy, had this to say about America's Independence Day:

"It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shows, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations, from one End of this Continent to the other, from this Time forward--forever more."

 In other words, he thought it would be a pretty big deal, and he was right. Those Founding Fathers, they were smart cookies. Adams, Tom Jefferson, the guy who kept putting his John Hancock on things, and of course Bill, the Earl of Rights ... They were generally good, smart men, who only wanted to, you know, overturn the government.

Of course John Adams also said this:

"The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epoch in the History of America."

Wait.

The Second?

Nobody's perfect.

"Hey, bud--let's party!"

 

Actually, Adams had a point: The Continental Congress did indeed approve a motion to change the United Colonies into the United States on July 2. It was the first big bureaucratic boondoggle, requiring the government to print up new letterheads, buy rubber stamps, and change the seal on the Presidential Podium. Not to mention they had to fund an army.

But, in yet another classic case of putting the cart full of red tape before the red, white and blue horse, the Congress then spent two days editing the Declaration of Independence before they finally approved it--on July 4th. So that date got printed at the top, and eventually led to our National holiday.

The Founders didn't care. They hated John Adams so much that they didn't take any of his suggestions for bells, bonfires and such, anyway. Adams' last words, as he died on July 4th, 1826, were: "Thomas Jefferson still survives. Why isn't he setting off fireworks?"

Adams didn't know that Jefferson had died five hours earlier. Jefferson's last recorded words were: "Is it the Fourth?" When offered painkiller, he added, "No, doctor, nothing more. Make no noise that would make that ass Adams think we're celebrating."

As a result, the first recorded noise complaint to police didn't take place until the night of August 24th, 1814, in the city of Washington. I just happen to have transcripts of the call to police:

"This noise has been going on for hours. I have kids, and I have to get up early to go to work!"

"Sir, you don't understand: The British are burning Washington!"

"Well ... can't they do it more quietly?"

Ironically, the first recorded celebration of Independence Day was on September 13 of that same year, 1814, during The War of 1812.

 (I suppose it's for the best that we didn't call it The War of 1812-1815, which doesn't roll off the tongue so well.)

The British were not huge John Adams fans. Still, they had it on good authority that Adams was busy in Massachusetts, debating with its legislature the best way to spell Massachusetts. (A name definitely decided by committee.) So they brought all their cannon, mortars, and rockets, in an attempt to crash the party being thrown at Baltimore's Fort McHenry.

But the Americans manning the fort had a secret weapon: a giant American flag, made of Kevlar.

Most people think Kevlar was introduced in 1971, but in reality Benjamin Franklin invented it accidentally in 1784, while trying to invent a stronger condom. Apparently he was still fuming about his son William being named Governor of New Jersey--royal Governor of the colony of New Jersey, on behalf of the King. Not long before he died, Franklin was heard to say, "I'll never have another child! ... well, hello, ladies!"

It's not recorded where he said this.

Your flag may vary.

 

The Kevlar was adapted into a flag, allegedly by one of Franklin's great-grand-daughters, and repelled everything the British could throw at it. This led an onlooker to write a poem that was later turned into a song:

Oh, say, can you see,

blocking Franklin's pee-pee?

No latex surrounding--

 but this stuff can take a pounding.

The lyrics were later changed by the Daughters of the American Revolution.

So it took a lot of time and history type stuff, but in the end Adams was right about the holiday, if not the date. From one end of the continent to the other, we make noise, flash lights, burn stuff, and generally annoy each other. I'm not sure if everyone doing that stuff actually gets why ...

But we're still here.

I can see my house from here!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

If you really want to have fun on an Independence Day picnic, bring along a book that has the American Flag on the front.

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Happy Second of July, Kevlar!

 John Adams, signer of the Declaration of Independence, Second U.S. President, and all around unpleasant guy, had this to say about America's Independence Day:

"It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shows, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations, from one End of this Continent to the other, from this Time forward--forever more."

 In other words, he thought it would be a pretty big deal, and he was right. Those Founding Fathers, they were smart cookies. Adams, Tom Jefferson, the guy who kept putting his John Hancock on things, and of course Bill, the Earl of Rights ... They were generally good, smart men, who only wanted to, you know, overturn the government.

Of course John Adams also said this:

"The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epoch in the History of America."

Wait.

The Second?

Nobody's perfect.

"Hey, bud--let's party!"

 

Actually, Adams had a point: The Continental Congress did indeed approve a motion to change the United Colonies into the United States on July 2. It was the first big bureaucratic boondoggle, requiring the government to print up new letterheads, buy new rubber stamps, and change the seal on the Presidential Podium. Not to mention they had to fund an army.

But, in yet another classic case of putting the cart full of red tape before the red, white and blue horse, the Congress then spent two days editing the Declaration of Independence before they finally approved it--on July 4th. So that date got printed at the top of the Declaration, and eventually led to our National holiday.

The Founders didn't care. They hated John Adams so much that they didn't take any of his suggestions for bells, bonfires and such, anyway. Adams' last words, as he died on July 4th, 1826, were: "Thomas Jefferson still survives. Why isn't he setting off fireworks?"

Adams didn't know that Jefferson had died five hours earlier. Jefferson's last recorded words were: "Is it the Fourth?" When offered painkiller, he added, "No, doctor, nothing more. Make no noise that would make that ass Adams think we're celebrating."

As a result, the first recorded noise complaint to police didn't take place until the night of August 24th, 1814, in the city of Washington. I just happen to have transcripts of the call to police:

"This noise has been going on for hours. I have kids, and I have to get up early to go to work!"

"Sir, you don't understand: The British are burning Washington!"

"Well ... can't they do it more quietly?"

Ironically, the first recorded celebration of Independence Day was on September 13 of that same year, 1814, during The War of 1812.

 (I suppose it's for the best that we didn't call it The War of 1812-1815, which doesn't trip off the tongue so well.)

The British were not huge John Adams fans. Still, they had it on good authority that Adams was busy in Massachusetts, debating with its legislature the best way to spell Massachusetts. (A name definitely decided by committee.) So they brought all their cannon, mortars, and rockets, in an attempt to crash the party being thrown at Fort McHenry.

But the Americans manning the fort had a secret weapon: a giant American flag, made of Kevlar.

Most people think Kevlar was introduced in 1971, but in reality Benjamin Franklin invented it accidentally in 1784, while trying to introduce a stronger condom. Apparently he was still fuming about his son William being named Governor of New Jersey--royal Governor of the colony of New Jersey, on behalf of the King. Not long before he died, Franklin was heard to say, "I'll never have another child! ... well, hello, ladies!"

It's not recorded where he said this.

Your flag may vary.

 

The Kevlar was adapted into a flag, allegedly by one of Franklin's great-grand-daughters, and repelled everything the British could throw at it. This led an onlooker to write a poem that was later turned into a song:

Oh, say, can you see,

blocking Franklin's pee-pee?

No latex surrounding--

 but this stuff can take a pounding.

The lyrics were later changed by the Daughters of the American Revolution.

So it took a lot of time and history type stuff, but in the end Adams was right about the holiday, if not the date. From one end of the continent to the other, we make noise, flash lights, burn stuff, and generally annoy each other. I'm not sure if everyone doing that stuff actually gets why ...

But we're still here.

I can see my house from here!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

If you really want to have fun on an Independence Day picnic, bring along a book that has the American Flag on the front.

http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Bobbing For Fire

Bob Beckley and Ligonier Assistant Fire Chief Jerry Sprague debate which of them is closest to being as old as Bob Brownell.

SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK

            After three decades as a volunteer firefighter, I … hurt. A lot, especially when it’s cold. Recently I’ve been seen wearing a sling, to let my arm heal after I bent an elbow the wrong way. (I don’t really need the sling—it’s to keep me from reaching for stuff with my bad arm.)

            Bob Beckley was already an old timer (or so my 18-year-old self thought) when I joined. He just hit his 40^th year.

            Bob Brownell was just given his fifty year pin.

            Fifty years.

            And that was because they missed the actual anniversary: He’s been a firefighter for 53 years. He was already doing the job for two decades before I walked into the firehouse for the first time, sucking on a bottle and wetting my pants. (Just kidding … I wasn’t sucking on a bottle. I left it in the car.)

            Now, what else happened around 53 years ago? Hm. Well, 52 years ago, although I don’t actually remember it …

            Holy cow. Bob Brownell has been fighting fires since before I was born.

            And the rest of us still have to fight him for the friggin’ fire nozzle.

            Maybe it’s a Bob thing. Maybe being a Bob gives you more energy somehow; maybe it’s one of those mystical names that keeps you young even longer than sleeping under a pyramid, or marrying Playboy 

bunnies.

            Brownell would have started around 1961 or so. Kennedy was President. In Albion, our newest truck was a 1952 fire engine, the first engine I rode to a fire almost two decades later. It had a manual transmission with about 42 speeds on it.

            And I’m tired?

            Now, Brownell is a transfer, which means he didn’t start with our department. What happened was, he started on a different fire department, wore all of them out, then moved to another one. Then all the young guys on that department got tired of him making them look bad, so he left there and came to us. You know those stories about immortal people who moved every few decades so people wouldn’t notice they aren’t aging? That’s Brownell.

            The truth is, Bob didn’t learn to be a firefighter: He invented firefighting. Yep. He was just sitting around with Ben Franklin one day, sipping on a Sam Adams (the beer, I mean—he’s not a vampire. I think.)

            Then Ben, who later died because he’s not Bob, used his well known powers of observation: “Say … Bob, you don’t appear to have aged a day since I met you during the Frenching Indian War.” (No, that’s not a typo: Ben was quite a party animal.)

            Bob had to think fast, because he’d already been kicked out of Rome after organizing slaves into the first fire brigade (which gives a certain irony to the term “volunteer”). Later he had to leave London, after he helped fight the Great Fire of the unfortunately numbered year 1666. With no buildings left to burn he couldn’t get any firefighting action, so he went over to the Colonies and met an expert at getting action, Ben Franklin.

            Together, Franklin and Bob invented false teeth—sadly not perfected for George Washington—along with an early version of the Walkman, and the disco ball. These last two were not successful, as it was only afterward that they discovered electricity.

            Anyone, Bob wasn’t ready to move on just yet, so he had to distract Franklin. Seeing no woman nearby, he said, “Say, Ben, you know what we should do? Form a volunteer fire department.”

            “Oh, I don’t know … I’m a little leery of flames ever since we flew that kite and the lightning set my wig on fire.”

            “You look fine bald. Besides, the chicks love firefighters.”

            “Oh! Why didn’t you say so?”

            So they formed the Union Fire Company, and both men were happy to learn the chicks did, indeed, love firefighters, and things went just great until Bob started not getting old. He moved to Cincinnati and helped develop the first steam powered fire engine, which the firefighters wanted to name the “Bob Brownell” but was instead named the "Uncle Joe Ross", after a City Council member. Politics! But it’s just as well, because 150 years later Bob would have some explaining to do.

            So we’re lucky to have Bobs on our fire department. You know, something just occurred to me: Maybe Bob Beckley isn’t one of a line of Beckleys on the AFD. Maybe it was the same Bob all along—Chief in 1959, and Chief in 1994. Maybe firefighting Bobs really are immortal …

            Just like the spirit of volunteerism. See what I did there?

            Now, I’m off to change my name.

“Give me my service pin, you whipper-snapper; I’ve been doing this so long that we had to invent fire, just so we could put it out.”