The fireworks split the sky, painting the black with greens and yellows and blues and reds. The booms and crashes that went along with the colors scared the little kids in front, who sat crying in their mothers’ laps. The 1812 Overture rang out from tinny speakers along the Charles, unless you were close to the Hatch Shell and could actually hear the Pops. Flags were waving, hearts swelling with patriotic enthusiasm.
Chocolate ice cream was plastered all over my little girl’s face as she sang the National Anthem. “Land of the free! Home of the brave and ice cream!”