Like most of you, I have a few great loves in life: my wife, my children, and a certain Major League Baseball team I prefer not to name for fear of reprisal. But there’s something else that thrills me to no end: fireworks.
I love them. Always have, always will. Nothing makes me feel more patriotic than watching money explode in the air. From 2-cent Black Cats to $150 mortar shells, if it sparks, burns and bangs then I’m interested.
Last week, my family and I visited relatives in the Upstate of South Carolina. Greer, where my mother-in-law lives, has no meaningful fireworks ordinances. Which means you can light them in the street. Any street, in any neighborhood.
And boy, did we ever. My brother-in-law, who enjoys patriotic explosions as much as me, took a wad of our cash down to Joey’s Fireworks and came back with a haul that would make Pete Hegseth go woke. Or broke. Maybe both. I won’t tell you how much he spent, but let’s just say it would’ve paid my rent in 2003. And it was worth every penny.
Research tells me expensive pyrotechnical pursuits are as American as apple pie. The American Pyrotechnics Association estimated that Americans spent more than $2.4 billion on consumer fireworks in 2024, up from $2.2 billion in 2023. The U.S., like it does with almost everything cool, imports most of its fireworks from China. Of course, the Chinese invented fireworks, so even the America First crowd can’t get mad about that trade deficit.
The usage of fireworks on the Fourth of July can be traced back to 1777, when the first anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence was marked by massive celebrations in Philadelphia that included canon salutes, ringing bells and fireworks. We didn’t have any canons or bells in Greer last week, but we did have a small arsenal that would’ve made John Adams proud.
And we weren’t alone. The sky all around us was filled with explosions as the neighborhoods and subdivisions within earshot competed for aerial supremacy. Women and children remained at safe distances and dogs cowered in closets as men, full of spirit (or possibly spirits,) fired salvo after salvo into the South Carolina night.
Your current level or pride in being an American is likely related to your political orientation. Regardless of how you feel about Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to be an American” (terrible song) or Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” (great song, but you might want to read the lyrics before you blast it at your next cookout) most of us want the same thing; the liberty to do as we please as long as we’re not endangering others.
I like to believe Fourth of July celebrations transcend politics. As the rockets’ red (or purple, green or blue) glare explodes and expands overhead, you’re instantly linked to those early Americans who loved the same things you do: freedom, a day off from work, and wasting money on shiny, loud things. Keep those ideals in mind and you’ll always win the war, even if you lose the neighborhood fireworks battle.
Philip Poe is sports editor.
Philip Poe is sports editor.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 41 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 41 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
