A hundred years ago, when Gabriel and I first visited his abuelita (grandma) in Lima, Peru, we were introduced to the noisy Latin American custom of celebrating Christmas with fireworks, cherry bombs and all manner of (usually) minor explosives. And usually at night, to show off the visuals to best effect.
In fact, a few years later, when Gabe was about 6, we stood on the house roof and set off our own cuetes, little poppers that made a big sound a few seconds after being lit, and thrown off the roof. Gabe passed the unlit cuetes to his abuela's maid to do the dangerous part. People wisely avoided the residential streets during the holidays.
Today, as we begin only the second week of December, the cherry bombs have been going off day and night every few hours, four or five in a row. Brynn thinks it's thunder and runs into the kitchen where she cowers under the sink counter. Suzy stares in the direction of the explosion and waits for more specific info.
There are other noises worth mentioning, primarily for the benefit of Mary Mary, my sister, due here in two weeks. A 4:30 a.m., the big semi-tractor trailers start blasting their blasted horns all the way down the highway, a mere 25 yards from the house. At about 5:30 a.m., the bats who live under my roof start returning from their nightly food forays. They thump and scrabble just above the ceiling, as if they are squabbling about the good roosting spots. "Hey, that's my place!" Oh, yeah? Well, now it's mine. Wanna fight about it?"
I have already replaced a couple of my dropped ceiling tiles because of the guano buildup. I sweep up the stuff and put it in the garden. I like bats, especially because they eat tons of mosquitoes and other insects. Such a little word in English is merciélago in Spanish. Five whole syllables!
The clip-clop of horse carts mingles with the distorted unintelligible PA announcement cars that pass occasionally. And then there is the blare of assorted radio speakers pumping out everything from rap to salsa, sentimental ballads to mariachi. And the tinkling bells of the Eskímo vendors. All punctuated by those damned explosions. Boom! Boom!
(And I am an authentic baby boomer! What's my problem?)
Reminds me of the 4th Celebrations here. Last year, we took Lindsay & Nick to Somerset to see the fireworks at the High School. When we returned, we discovered that the Gables had their own display which they shoot off right over our house. We didn't know about it or we wouldn't have gone. Our new dog Penny freaked and disappeared for 2 days. She'd never been off the property and couldn't find her way back. We found her wandering a back road in Boswell (now forever renamed as "Penny Lane")
ReplyDeleteDoggies ain't stupid, Biff. They are naturally anti-war.
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