Singed hopes for some sanity

In 1961, the Iowa Legislature eased Iowa's ban on fireworks to allow the sale and use of snakes and sparklers. By June, The Gazette's editorial board was fired up.

'So far, ‘toy snake' fizzler devices have given no cause for regret at their return. But sparklers are a different story,” we wrote in an editorial on June 5, 1961. 'Already their glamour has dimmed through happenings not only unfortunate but illegal.”

The editorial said a 6-year-old in Cedar Rapids ignited a sparkler in a closet and set fire to his house. A porch fire and another outdoor blaze in the city were blamed on sparklers. A child's dress caught fire in Dubuque and Des Moines firefighters 'have answered sparkler alarms.”

Sparklers, the editorial points out, were not supposed to be legally used or sold until July 4. And yet, they proliferated. We suspected lawmakers would reconsider and snuff out sparklers.

'Defenders may call it a spoilsport outlook, but fundamentally the law condones a practice recognized everywhere as folly: Playing with fire,” The Gazette concluded.

Well, we changed our view considerably in 2014, when we first favored lifting Iowa's lightly enforced ban and allowing limited access to consumer fireworks, as is the law in 42 states. We supported a bill that passed the Legislature this year, allowing the legal sale of consumer fireworks, with room for local governments to regulate their use.

So our position has changed. And based on what we're hearing and seeing, we may have to recalibrate our fireworks view yet again.

Maybe the sparkler saga shows how, when it comes to fireworks, if you give Iowans an inch of freedom, they'll run a mile holding a molten-hot wire. Or maybe it shows initial angst eventually gives way to less heated normalcy.

But sparklers are quiet. And I gather more than a few neighborhoods in Cedar Rapids have been anything but quiet lately.

I apparently gave Iowans too much credit for being able to handle expanded fuse-lighting liberty. Where I envisioned fireworks as a bit of holiday recreation, it seems some folks have decided to become full-time, round-the-clock demolition experts, legal limits and neighbors be damned.

That's too bad, although I will say things have been pretty tame in my own Marion neighborhood. I watched a family with young kids light off a few rockets in their backyard, laugh and applaud at each burst of sparks, and go inside for the night. So not everybody is out of control.

What may be saddest of all in this fireworks saga is what it says about our sense of community, or lack thereof. Many of us don't know our neighbors, and apparently, some of us don't much care how our actions might affect them. A sense of empathy has been replaced too often by selfishness. Each flash and bang beyond what's reasonable or legal is like a black powder selfie for the instant gratification of the self-absorbed.

I hold out hope boneheads won't ruin this for the rest of us. But already the reckless have sparked calls for fireworks bans. I'd like to think we can have a reasonable conversation about the future of fireworks when the holiday smoke clears. But, clearly, I've been burned before.

l Comments: (319) 398-8262; todd.dorman@thegazette.com