Hard to beat Bozeman on the Fourth of July

I’ve lived in some great places in Montana.

Cooke City was the first and will always hold a special place in my heart. Livingston was a wonderful place to live, too, and I couldn’t be happier with where I live now in Malta, but come Independence Day I still long to be in Bozeman.

I miss the spectacle.

Bozeman, like many towns in the state, puts on a Fourth of July fireworks show. In Livingston there’s a fireworks display every night following the Roundup Rodeo. There’s even a fireworks show here in Malta shortly after dark on the Fourth.

But those are all scripted, well-coordinated events put on by professionals.

And while there are also folks shooting off their own fireworks everywhere across the state on the Fourth, the explosive atmosphere that rises from Bozeman is a sight to see.

For a day, the city swaps its political correctness for a specter of shock and awe.

An hour or so before dusk, my wife and I would settle into our chairs on the second-floor deck at our home on the south side of town. The crackle of fire-crackers, which had started early that morning, grew louder as the sun set.

From our elevated perch, we could see the entire Gallatin Valley north to the Bridgers and the darker it got the more the sky lit up with fireworks. Closer to the house, we’d hear whoops and hollers following the window-rattling booms of illegal cherry bombs as the cacophony increased. Occasionally, spent rockets would land in the yard or bounce off the roof. The smell of gunpowder filled the air and smoke drifted through the neighborhood.

Some years it was hard to tell when the city-sponsored show had started be-cause of all the freelance activity lighting up the sky across the valley.

It seemed like every kid with a summer job, and a lot of adults, too, spent their last dime of that week’s wages on fireworks.

The sirens of fire trucks, usually responding to small blazes started by errant rockets, only added to the excitement of the night.

Things settled down shortly after the fireworks show ended. There was still the occasional crackle, pop and boom, but most folks, it seemed, had had enough and by midnight the city was quiet.

The next morning we’d clean up the debris and admire the scorch marks on the pavement.

It’s hard to beat Bozeman on the Fourth of July.

Parker Heinlein is at

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