After reading all the firework mishap stories, and this post at "An Ordinary Life", I reflected on a few occurrences of my youth.
I stepped on quite a few sparkler rods. You avoid them when they're red hot, but invariably step on one that is not visibly glowing.
While trying to hold a roman candle, due to my grip, it fired into my hand. It hurt like hell and took a long time to heal.
I had a substantial amount of bottle rocket misfires, including those that were from the pipe we were using as a launcher. (We didn't think it was pointed that way. Dammit, we were having a war and the fury of battle is confusing.)
While riding in a friend's 55 Chevy, his effort to throw a firecracker from the window led to it sailing through mine, into my bag of fireworks and it seemed to take forever for us to stop.
I had a firecracker go off in my hand. If you've never had this happen, the explosion immediately opens your hand, make it numb for a few moments and the eventual pain is like when you hit your finger with a hammer.
I didn't lose a finger, so everything was good.
Fireworks are part of growing up. So if you're concerned, get over it. Even if you outlaw firecrackers, young folks will figure out a way to blow things up without your guidance. Buy them, teach safe handling and a keep a first aid kit handy.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.