Fourth of July in the Boonies

A more formal title for this post would read "Fourth of July in the Boondocks," because "boonies" is a shortened form of "boondocks," meaning "a usually brushy rural area," "backwoods," "remote and undeveloped area," "very rural location or town," and "wilds, far-away spaces or that portion of the country which is fit only for the training of Marines"--or so my google definition tells me. Another definition is "where I live."

However, "boonies" had to be used for the title, for two reasons. First, in the boonies we don't use formal terms. We use the shortened slang, like "ain't." Second, Boondocks happens to be a local bar. Not just any local bar, mind you--the upscale bar in Gilman (population 1800). My town, Danforth (population 600), hosts the less classy bar--Maw and Paw's. However, Maw and Paw's recently put in a tiki garden, so their star is rising. At any rate, upscale or not, Boondocks in my mind is a bar, not a "very rural location."

Fourth of July in the boonies is generally an interesting occasion. Onarga, another local town (population 1400), hosts the area's Fourth festivities, including a parade, baby contest, and beer tent. In addition, many local families set off their own fireworks. Heck, out in the boonies, who's goin' ta care anyways?

Early in the week, my family was debating what to do for the Fourth. My sister Becca had been invited to go to Onarga with a friend, but just wasn't feeling the impulse to go. We usually go up to Kankakee Community College for their symphony concert on the college lawn and fireworks (a little less boonie-esque). We decided we would go to the city for our fireworks fix.

Tuesday, we were still enjoying summer in the boonies. The weather was perfect for a bonfire, and we have lots of sticks out here in the sticks. So we got out our lawn chairs and started up the fire (pronounced fah-er). Found the (homemade) marshmallow roasting sticks and dug out the graham crackers, marshmallows, and...wait...where's the Hershey's bars, guys?

So we had smores with semi-sweet chocolate chips instead.

Wednesday, Dad went to the store and bought Hershey's bars. That night, we had another fire and my friend Cait joined us. Cait has known our family for years, but is still occasionally taken aback by some of the unusual customs practiced in the boonies. First, the homemade roasting sticks were of interest, as were the stacks of firewood for the wood-burning stove (gotta keep warm in the winter).

Conversation drifted from our chickens, which are partly for eggs and partly for fried chicken (Dad butchers 6 each Saturday after they get big enough--currently 15 down, 11 to go)...Cait: "Are you doing more this Saturday? Can I come?" Dad: "Only 3 this Saturday, it's a holiday."

...to her trip to the Taste of Chicago where she ate a roast goat..."Wait, do you guys eat your goats?"...Dad: "No, we never have, but maybe we should consider it...hang em up on a spit above the fire."

...to the foods at a market she visited: "All sorts of exotic things--skinned rabbits, ox tails, ostrich eggs..." I had to ask her later what the other foods were, because all four of my family were exchanging looks and stifling laughter after "skinned rabbits"--four of these exotic creatures-turned-food are currently in our freezer. Not bought at a market, either--shot in our yard with my dad's rifle. Goodness gracious, honey, them thar hares'll eat yer garden right up if you don't take care of them!

Friday, my sister and I were sitting in her room on the second floor of our house, pretending to do something productive but really vegging out, when Becca says matter-of-factly, "There's a boy jumping on a trampoline." "What?" I turn around. "A boy, jumping on a trampoline," she repeats, pointing out the window. "What?" We don't have a trampoline, or a boy. Then I realize she is pointing to our neighbor's house, where, indeed, I can see a boy jumping on a trampoline.

Our neighbors live a 1/4 mile away.

Now, if you have never seen a boy jumping on a trampoline from 1/4 mile away, you are really missing out on the finer things in life. The bouncing effect is slowed a bit and quite relaxing when viewed from a distance. After awhile he stopped jumping and laid down on the trampoline, at which point we stopped creeping on him, though I had thought about getting the binoculars. But they were downstairs--too much effort.

Saturday, the Fourth of July, it rained in the Midwest. My sister went to the Onarga parade with her friend; they stood under an umbrella and collected the candy that came their way. Dad insisted it would stop raining in the afternoon. He checked the weather satellite online every hour (one of our new-fangled acquisitions out on the farm--we even have high speed internet!). Once afternoon began, he said it would stop in a half hour. He said that every half hour. The rain continued until about dusk. By then we had already decided to stay home from our big outing and watch a movie instead of going to the symphony and fireworks.

Sunday, we heard that the Onarga fireworks had been rescheduled for that night. Again, we debated going, but decided against it. In the evening, while we were watching TV, my family heard faint booming noises. We turned our entertainment pursuit in search of seeing fireworks out the windows. My parents hit up the second floor, peeking out the windows in all directions, while my sister and I headed east to the kitchen windows. "I see them!" A triumphant cry from Becca, stationed in the bathroom. We called my parents, and the four of us stood huddled in the small bathroom, some crouching and some on tiptoes to allow everyone a view of the great display. While we watched, we pondered whose fireworks they were. "Laurence's. They're Laurence's." I was convinced; he is the neighborhood hoodlum--lets his goats run loose and everything. My parents corrected me; it's probably Ashkum's fireworks, they probably got postponed too (Ashkum population 750). After awhile I agreed; the fireworks were quite good and the display went on longer than a single family would attempt. In fact, they lasted a good 10 minutes after we caught sight of them, the entirety of which we spent in the bathroom watching out the window, oohing and ahhing the whole time.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone! Here's to the boonies!