The Education of Herrick Men

There's something wonderful about the 4th of July in Provo. Here, it is an EVENT. Everyone MAKES something of it. There is so much to do and even if you just do the bare minimum (which was my style this year,) it is grand. And because I am married to a Herrick, it was also (as it is every year since I became a Herrick) an adventure in fire.

But first, Gracie and I were very patriotic together.


We need to teach Daddy to take magnificent pictures of us.... The whole mirror thing is sub-par unless you learn how to make it look artistic.

The evening of the 3rd started out with Ice-cream Sundays, then we packed Josh's Stroller tighter than a Sherpa's burden, and walked to our very most perfect firework watching spot. The spot where the ground shakes and noise deafens and the soul soars with glory.

And reverence. Experienced by the very old and the very, very young.



But of course, I forgot the part where we were anything BUT reverent. The part where other mothers found it imperative to warn their children about behaving like us. You see my brother-in-law, Rob, got this great idea that sparklers could be held and enjoyed from one's mouth.


At which point I leaned over to my sister-in-law Alli and whispered, "Do you see what I have to teach my boys NOT to do one day." She laughed until she realized her boy Josh was already being educated.... and she knew her task at hand.

And then to no-one's surprise, Paul joined his brother Rob. Of course. They're Herricks.

Not a second later did a women whose boys were also being "educated" by the Herrick Men voice her opinion in a line that I'm SURE was intended more for the Men than her sons said, "Don't you ever, EVER, EVER do THAT. EVER."

And that became the catch-phrase of the weekend. Everything those Herrick Men did that maybe they shouldn't have was proceeded by the words, "Don't you ever, EVER, EVER do THAT. EVER" and then they did it.


Like on Sunday, when we embraced once again, the yearly tradition of lighting our own fireworks.

Herrick style.

Because it's not enough to just buy a whole bunch of gun powder encased as a toy and just light it.

No no.

This is an opportunity for Herrick Men (and I should not exclude my own brother, Blake) to pull out their MacGyver skills. To properly enjoy the holiday, they must make all sorts of tripods to strap the fireworks to, and then they must create make-shift fuses so that one firework lights the next firework in a chain reaction meant to compete with the Stadium of Fire itself. It gets to be a pretty hefty looking contraption. Very impressive.


Except for the small detail that it has never...actually worked...at least not in the way they hope.


This year, there was even a slight emphasis on FIRE rather than WORKS.

But every year the brothers try and every year they get a little better. Which means every year the wives worry a little more if this will be the year that an appendage is lost or at least very badly burned. Suffice it to say---I am full of thoughts like "Please Father---don't let anything bad happen. I know they are being ridiculous, but PLEASE."

And I secretly wonder to myself, as the mother of Future Herrick Men, how many times will they hear ME say, "Don't you ever, EVER, EVER do THAT. EVER," only for it to become a catch-phrase as they run off with their dad and uncles?

But I wouldn't trade those Herrick Men for all the Rules in the World. Especially not my favorite one.