Consequently, there are maybe only a couple hundred here, all of us standing on Wright Terrace and peering hopefully across the water towards Monona, people like me who are fireworks junkies, who will drop anything for even the briefest encounter with ephemera, and from the look of things, people who are new to the city, people who do not know that Madison does not have a proper Fourth of July fireworks show. If I had to guess, I would say that like my grandfather, like me, the crowd is maybe 60% foreign born. The woman next to me wears a headscarf, speaks to her two small daughters in a language I cannot name. As for me, in this brave new world, I am beginning to arrive in a place where I cannot tell the difference between numbness and ease. Day-to-day, it is possible what I feel is both. When the fireworks begin, one of the woman’s daughters starts to jump up and down as if on a spring. Watching her, I feel my own heart leap with some emotion of yore. In the Declaration of Independence, the founders wrote of the merciless Indian Savages, whose known Rule of Warfare, is an undistinguished Destruction of all Ages, Sexes and Conditions. I want to say this is in the past. I want to say it’s complicated, but actually it’s not. Overhead a firework explodes, creating a red heart ringed in blue. When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another… The little girl is still jumping up and down, her heart flooded with it.