My wife makes fun of me for that time I was a neighborhood narc

This happened maybe 15 years ago. It was the Fourth of July or right around there, and some people who lived near us were shooting off fireworks.

We didn't have babies in the house at that point, but these were loud fireworks and we could hear (and feel) them even with the windows and doors closed.

After a while, a Wickliffe police cruiser appeared on our street, driving slowly past each house. The officer was peering into backyards, presumably trying to figure out where the amateur fireworks artists were located (setting off fireworks without a license/permit was illegal in Ohio at the time).

Seeing him out our front window, I opened the door and helpfully yelled, "I think they're over on Jackson! One street over!"

I did this with the noble intention of helping the police, who I've always thought have a pretty tough job. It seemed altruistic to me.

My wife thought differently. As soon as I came back in the house and closed the door, she looked at me and asked, "Did you just snitch on the people setting off fireworks?"

Well...yes, I had. But "snitch" is such an ugly word. I preferred to think of myself as more of a "citizen law enforcement agent."

Terry wasn't buying it. I believe she saw me in a new light from that moment on...and not a good one.

To this day, especially in early July, she will often say to me in a mocking voice, "They're over there! Over there! One street over!"

If she keeps this up, I will have her arrested for harassment. She forgets I have friends in the police department.

Remembering Dave Sasek on the Fourth of July

This is Dave.

Earlier this year a childhood friend of mine named Dave Sasek passed away in a car accident. I hadn't spoken to Dave in a number of years, but like many who graduated from Wickliffe in the late 80s/early 90s, the tragedy of it really knocked me for a loop.

The years in which I hung around with Dave were relatively short, starting maybe in sixth grade and lasting into the early part of high school. He lived on the next street over from me and we played football together.

I'm thinking of Dave today in particular because of an episode that happened on this day in (I want to say) 1984 or so. Dave and I, along with our friends Matt and Kevin, attended the Wickliffe fireworks and were walking home afterward, since none of us could yet drive.

We passed a yard in which some little kids were playing with sparklers. Dave paused, looked at them, and said very matter of factly, "You'd better stop that, or the police are going to come and set you on fire."

It was stupid, obnoxious, and utterly perplexing. And I couldn't stop laughing. When you're a 14-year-old boy, trust me when I say you laugh at dumb things like this constantly.

Yet it was right in line with Dave's twisted-but-intelligent sense of humor. He did stuff like that all the time, and he was one of the few people who could make me laugh on cue.

Dave also turned me on to the music of The Doors, and we played quite a few hours of Atari in his basement together. That was where we found the secret dot in the Atari game "Adventure" and discovered the message hidden in the game by the designer...quite the find at the time.

Anyway, as  I said, we lost track of each other post-graduation, but I was incredibly sorry to hear what happened to him. I just may light a sparkler in his memory tonight (and believe me when I say I'll be giggling in his honor the whole time).

They're not doing fireworks in my little town, and I'm OK with it

For all of my 45+ years, I have called the suburb of Wickliffe, Ohio, home.

Wickliffe is a place of traditions. Like many cities, there are certain things we do every year, and in some ways our calendars revolve around those things.

One has always been the annual Fourth of July celebration at Coulby Park, traditionally capped off by a brilliant fireworks display at dusk.

The fireworks at Coulby are what my family does every year on Fourth of July. Or at least they're what we used to do, because this year city council decided not to have fireworks. Instead, we're combining with two other communities to hold a fireworks display at a local baseball stadium.

And let me say that I totally support this decision. For one thing, our city has a $1.5 million budget deficit, and it turns out fireworks (and the attendant overtime pay for police security) are expensive.

Also, if I'm being perfectly honest, I'll tell you that our Fourth of July celebration is no longer the Wickliffe-only thing it once was. A number of local cities have cancelled their fireworks displays in recent years, and their residents started coming to Wickliffe in large numbers. (I don't blame them...our fireworks have always been pretty good.)

The reason I know that people have been coming in from other cities is because Wickliffe is mostly white and the new people at our Fourth of July celebrations mostly aren't. That sounds like overt racism, but believe me when I say that's really not the case. I think most of us just wanted to keep it an event by and for Wickliffe residents, and the large infusion of outsiders (white, brown, black, yellow, whatever) has been frustrating.

So now we have to make other plans, and I'll admit to being a little sad about that. Things change, I know. Life goes on. But we made a lot of memories on those July 4th evenings at Coulby Park, and now I'm not sure we'll ever have the chance to do it again.

But you do what you have to do, and as I said, I support council's decision. Most of those council members are lifelong Wickliffe residents, and I'm sure it was painful for them to make what was undoubtedly the soundest fiscal choice.

It's just that there are certain things in life you assume will last forever. And when they don't, you mourn a little.

C'est la vie, my friends, c'est la vie. If nothing else, I reserve the right to be a little sad over it.