Karin's Review of Lone Tree's Fireworks

After the rain on Independence Day, Lone Tree's fireworks went off July 5, announced on the city's website that afternoon. No wristbands were required. I assume that was because the city had not leased Sweet Water Park from South Suburban Parks and Recreation District in the event of a delay. I'm pretty sure a lease was required to restrict public access. Of course, it could have been second thoughts after some unflattering press reports.

Throughout the threatening afternoon, it looked like it might be another no-go, but the moment the wind died down, the fireworks went up. On a clear day, they could have waited until it was a little darker, heightening the effect and suspense, but they had to seize the opportunity to get this done.

I would rate the fireworks an A-, despite the fact that I am an armchair fireworks choreographer. In prior years, there were too many going off at once, creating visual overload. I don't like a continuous barrage. The big oohers and aahers should go up alone (maybe in pairs), until the last of their glittery residue fades.

This year's choreographer understood pacing, initiating wild applause with pseudo-finales, only to start up and build again. My son observed that people should know better than to be suckered by this tactic. I said people want to be fooled into thinking they are getting more bang for their buck, or why would they be so pleased they got a coffee mug or hat when they bought a new car?

However, firework diversity was a problem. When there is a new color or effect, the designer needs to send out more than one example. At the first firing, you try to figure out what was unique about it. A second is required to determine why it was cool. A third lets you enjoy it without analyzing it. Unfortunately, sometimes 10 to 15 of exactly the same firework went up one after the other. Mix it up a little, guys, so we can look forward to seeing the one with the ghostly trail, spitting shriekers, or emerald/orange combo again.

There was one particular firework that divebombed toward the ground, exploding just in time, adding "uh oh" to the crowd's "oohs." After seeing it several times, we decided it had to be designed that way. (In Downingtown, Pennsylvania in 1988, we sat so close to the explosives' trajectory that ash rained down on us the entire show. It was great, but we couldn't salvage the blanket afterward.)

There seemed to be plenty of elbow room, traffic cleared fairly quickly, and I personally didn't witness any emergencies. I observed a few crazy parking strategies on the walk, but that happened almost every day while Lone Tree's Eagle Ridge Elementary was undergoing construction and those drivers live here.