I almost missed them. I fell asleep and woke up a minute before they started. Luckily, I live close to the river and I could just run up to the roof and watch them from there. But when I came back downstairs and saw on tv how great they looked from the river I made a vow: next year I will go out and watch them from the street.
There’s a downside to that, especially if it’s hot, and when the fireworks are on the east side it’s very hard to find a spot where your sightline isn’t blocked in some way. But I will always remember the fireworks for the anniversary of the Brooklyn Bridge. I was able to get right down on the river, to be almost underneath the display. I’d never be able to do that now, post 9/11, but I might be able to experience something like that night. The fireworks were mind-blowing and they were right there. Everyone around me, we were all just so happy and blown-away, surrounded by explosion after explosion of color and beauty. I was young and excited by my life (I still am mostly, but I have worries now that I didn’t then). To be right down in the midst of this glorious display, it was a metaphor for how I planned to live my life.
It wouldn’t be the same of course, but I think I could have something like what I had that night.