Back when I was a kid (1950s), our church had a big deal on the 4th. People began to gather early in the morning. Clay tile and planks were on loan from the lumber yard to make seating. A stock tank was borrowed from the IH dealer and filled with huge block of ice and water, later to be filled with bottled pop (no beer), watermelons and muskmelons. At noon there was a potluck meal in the church (which I loved!). After eating, we kids were required to present something patriotic - songs, poem, readings. Of course, my mom had to make sure that I had something lengthy to read. After that, we retired to the grassy plot where the ball field was located. It was always the men versus the boys in softball. There were various contests for the young and the women. I have a picture of Mom seriously winning the women's nail-pounding contest. At this time, the concessions were open, featuring the items in the tank, plus baked goods and ice cream kept in large, padded bags and set in the tank. Dad always had a half muskmelon with ice cream scooped into the center. All the while, there would be the pop of firecrackers (illegally smuggled in from South Dakota). I had a Zippo lighter for lighting them. One year I ran out of fluid. Dad and I walked home (just a block from the church) to refill it. Dad filled it over the sink and ran some down his arm. When he gave it a flick to test it, all of the hair (quite a bit) on that arm disappeared. The smell of burning hair still hung in the kitchen when we went home that evening.
