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It’s one of those things as they say, whoever they are, that comes with the territory. When you are a parent in little league, at least in National League here in Temple City, if your kid is fortunate enough or unfortunate enough, depending on the circumstances, to be chosen for the All Star team you are required to do a few “things” for the league. In essence they are making you an offer you can’t refuse.
These “things” are to do two shifts in the snack bar and two shifts in the fireworks stand. It sounds simple enough, especially if you are not faced with the prospect of doing them. But when it is marked on your calendar it seems to loom there like the Sword of Damocles over your head.
Many a parent tries to find a way around this task by paying somebody to do their shift for them. Some even think that they can just not show up, which is not exactly a good idea if you are hoping to see your kid play. Because as it says on the contract you have to sign, if you don’t show up for your shift your kid will be sitting out the next game. That or you will wake up to find in your bed a severed horse’s head.
While our snack bar shifts haven’t arrived yet, this last weekend my wife and I worked our fireworks stand shifts. We decided to do it together thus knocking out the two shifts in one fail swoop. We squeezed it in on Sunday, which was the day after our son’s birthday and the day before our anniversary. This was one full weekend. There was one thing in the back of our minds that made this shift a bittersweet experience.
That thought was that this was the last time we would have to volunteer for anything related to Little League. After years on the Little League roller coaster, the ride was finally coming to an end. Once this All Star stint is over, it will be time to move onto high school sports, which we have already gotten a taste of thanks to my daughter, Rachel.
For those of you have never worked in a fireworks stand let me say it’s as glamorous as it looks. Trying to move around in a wooden and metal box that has a walkway approximately two feet wide with four other people trying to do the same can be fun. It’s kind of like line dancing without music. Add to that the heat of July and you have the makings of a truly joyous experience.
The human factor can also add to the fun especially if you are cooped up in there with people you don’t particularly care for. Fortunately for us we had a great group, who, by the end of our shift, were working like a well-oiled selling machine. Pete Puertas, Geri Payne, Stan Bakey, Stacey, and I learned about the different types of fireworks we were selling as we went. Well let me clarify that, we learned the names and what color they were. Also, I found out quickly, as did the rest of the crew, that I had a knack for operating the credit card machine that most fireworks stands are now equipped with. That made me the official king of that apparatus and I was hailed every time plastic surfaced.
As to what the majority of the fireworks actually looked like when ignited, we, as most who work the stands, didn’t have a clue. Fireworks don’t have a good description on them as to what they do. The ones that do have any sort of explanation say the same thing: emits sparks or showers of sparks. Isn’t that what all these fireworks do?
This makes answering questions by customers about what each one does impossible, that is unless you have a fertile imagination and don’t care. In that case you can just make things up as you go along. I mean the mere fact that the customers were asking people whose contact with fireworks is limited to a maximum of 6 hours once a year if that, is ridiculous. It’s not like we all went to fireworks school. But ask they did.
Perhaps the most bizarre question we kept getting asked was by parents with very young children. They wanted to know if the fireworks were quiet. Apparently little Susie and Johnny were very sensitive to loud sounds and would get very scared if the fireworks were too loud. Give me a break. The sound from a legal, safe, and sane firework is going to traumatize them? If they are that worried why not just keep the kid stored in a hermetically sealed tube.
What else was apparent was that this must have been the first time that they spent a Fourth of July in Temple City. If it wasn’t, then they must have spent their prior years in a bomb shelter or in a movie theatre. This town should start calling the Fourth of July “Shock and Awe” because as soon as the sun goes down, it looks and sounds like the bombing of Baghdad, just more colorful.
This year was even more extreme than in years past. This says to me that the war on illegal fireworks is going about as well as the war on drugs. Both of them appear to be failing miserably despite how much press they get. I really don’t think that people truly understand that a burning object that launches into the air is illegal.
The crew and I had numerous people come to the stand asking for the “ones” that fly up in the air. We tried our best to educate them telling them that they were illegal and referring them to the Rose Bowl if they wanted to see that type of display. I doubt that they took it.
Soon the shift was over and a new crew began replacing us. I passed along my knowledge to a new monarch of the plastic and Stacey and I made our purchases and made our departure from the fireworks stand for the last time as All Star parents.
I’d like to thank my partners at the fireworks prom, Pete, Geri, Stan, and Stacey, for making my last dance a fandango and not a funky chicken.
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