I do none of that now. 

When my kids were little, we’d walk down to North Ogden Park only to immediately regret the crowds and heat. The celebrating now happens in my backyard where the lines are short, the shade plenty and there’s no competition for a parking spot.

Independence Day is my favorite holiday with its combination of family, food, outdoors, music and fireworks. It’s the holiday that usually brings everyone back home to Utah from the faraway place they moved to. 

It was once my uncles jumping over fireworks in the backyard; now it’s me and my brother. Fireworks were the main event in every July 4 celebration I can remember. Some years they went well, others it was anarchy; every year it was a literal blast.

This year is different.

The West is dry, on fire and our public servants on the front lines of a deadly situation are stretched thin and exhausted. The Cottonwood Fire is nearly 95,000 acres with 5% containment. This is one of dozens.

There are no fireworks this year, and I support this difficult decision by city leaders.

Watching wildfire creep down the mountain side, literally feet from someone’s home, only a year ago changed how I view not only the reality or fire but the people willing to stand in the path.

It was surreal as planes drop retardant over the trees and shocking at how detailed, how close it all was. I wasn’t watching this on TV. I was standing on my porch living it. The power was out, the air hard to breathe and tension reverberated through our streets. At night, it was scary to even close your eyes, worried that when you open them, it would be your street needing to evacuate.

Look around your home now and decide what you would take and what you’d leave to burn. That’s what my neighbors had to do.

Days later, after the flames were under control, my family walked the fire line where the black ground butted up against the green grass of my neighbor’s backyard. It’s shocking how close Utah came to tragedy.

North Ogden wasn’t just lucky that day; we were saved by firefighters.

Now I have a chance to help them. We won’t be lighting fireworks this year. Instead, we’ll walk to the local park for the city’s display.

It’s not lost on me that, once again, regular people are being asked to change their behavior while billion-dollar data center proposals continue to raise legitimate questions about Utah’s water future. I understand why people are frustrated. I am, too.

But I can be frustrated about those conversations while also recognizing that launching bottle rockets into tinder-dry foothills isn’t exactly taking a principled stand.

While many are angry that government stepped in, maybe we should be more upset that it had to. If enough people were willing to make the responsible choice on their own, there wouldn’t have been a need for emergency restrictions in the first place. Some can’t resist the dance of the Thunder Rocket despite a mountain full of tinder as a backdrop, so tough decisions had to be made.

The people I really feel for this week are the vendors, actual moms and pops, who put their savings into overpriced but undeniably wonderful fireworks. I’ve seen many in our community turn out to buy from the tents with plans to shelve their aerials until New Year’s Eve, the seemingly perfect time to launch fire into the sky. This choice is the right combination — respecting public safety, supporting local business and still honoring the American tradition of bottle rockets.

For those deciding to take the risk, they’re looking at criminal penalties and fines around $1000, just enough to buy two 100 shot cases. The money really adds up if a wildfire is started from that firework. According to KSL, last year, 165,000 acres burned, the most since 2020, and it cost the state $191.8 million. A guy who started a fire after shooting a target in the Wasatch Back ended up paying $300,000. 

If skipping backyard fireworks gives them one less fire to chase, it seems like a pretty small sacrifice.

My family won’t remember the year we skipped backyard fireworks. They’ll remember that we were together. And that’s always been the best part of the holiday anyway.