Night had fallen, and I lay on a blanket looking skyward. My head seemed to swirl; my brain could barely absorb the scene. The ground beneath me thumped. Colors kept rushing toward me in bursts of yellow, red, green and blue.
The effect was not the result of a psychotropic drug — even if it felt like that. I was in Washington, D.C., in a park near the White House, watching the fireworks display on July 4th.
I haven't spent the 4th in Boston or New York, two cities with patriotic pyrotechnics that rival those of our nation's capital — at least enough so that they have been similarly aired on national television. But I believe I'm on firm footing when I say that there is no better place to celebrate the 4th than D.C., where the Washington Monument rises against the light show.
Even before the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife, Abigail, anticipating this annual display of patriotism. He wrote to her that July 2, 1776, the day the Second Continental Congress first declared freedom from Great Britain, would be "celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival ... It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more."
Adams, who was the first president to reside in Washington, D.C., even before the White House was entirely completed, would no doubt relish the spectacle when the National Mall, rooftops, patios and nearly every inch of parkland is filled with Americans delighting in our country's history — and the sparkles overhead.
He wrote to Abigail of "rays of ravishing Light and Glory." After the light show in D.C. was over for me, I could not have described it better myself.
Send your questions or tips to Travel Editor Kerri Westenberg at travel@startribune.com, and follow her on Twitter: @kerriwestenberg.
