My most memorable days celebrating July 4th come from Boston, thirty years ago, on the esplanade, listing to Arthur Fiedler’s Boston Pops sounding out the 1812 overture, while across the Charles River, a spotlight atop MIT moved in the sky following the maestro’s baton. We all “ooh and awed” as it was like God himself was conducting.
On the Charles itself there were three barges, loaded with fireworks and spectacular aerial bombs, and the shores were lined with Army howitzer 105 cannons firing in perfect time when called upon.