Why July 4 fireworks sound different to me now

I was born on July 4th, and for decades, the beauty and fun of fireworks were deeply intertwined with the way I saw my country and myself. But something has changed.

My pregnant mom was certain she knew how things would go that night. It was late afternoon, but she already had movie tickets in her pocket. I wasn’t due for another month. And my parents were excited to see “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan” in a few hours. But I surprised my family with a different sort of spectacle. My mom’s water broke while she was washing the dishes that day. And I made my entrance on July 4, just after 10 p.m., when surely a few fireworks were still lighting up the Chicago sky. The idea that I burst into the world during the event’s finale is a bit of family lore I’ve always loved retelling. For decades, the beauty and fun of fireworks were deeply intertwined with the way I saw my country and myself. To me, these were facts as indisputable as the wetness of water or the blueness of the sky. But I see things differently now. And that’s something I never expected. Growing up, it’s not an overstatement to say no one loved going to see July 4 fireworks more than I did.