Getting Back to Normal

One of the nicer things about living in my neighborhood has always been the fireworks. I live only a few steps from the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, which overlooks the East River and lower Manhattan. Ever other year, we get a front-row seat for the immense Macy’s Independence Day display. (Macy’s alternates putting its floats in the lower and upper East River; when they’re upstream, by Queens, we can’t see a damn thing.)


But it’s not just Macy’s. Any company that’s willing to pay the freight and go through an apparently rigorous application process can fire off pyrotechnics in New York Harbor, and a fair number do. On more than a few nights, we can hear rhythmic booming from the harbor. More than sometimes, we run outside to see them.


Since September 11, it should not be a surprise, there have not been any fireworks displays in New York City; the last one was quite enough, thank you. But I was certain that this past Friday — late in the evening, like 10:45pm or so — I heard the characteristic booms. I didn’t go out to check it out; it had been a long day.


I don’t (yet) know what the noise was, but it didn’t make the local news so it wasn’t awful. But if you believe this link, it wasn’t fireworks either, because the next ones in the city will be this July 4, somewhere over the East River — just as usual. It should be something to see.

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