July 4, 1976

Having referred to it in my story about July 3-4, 1977, I guess I owe you the store of July 4, 1976.

Beth Woolley was in the viola section in the junior high and high school orchestra (and a much better violist than I), so I got to know the Woolleys that way. Jane was a year ahead, so even if she hadn't been the better player, she probably deserved first chair due to seniority. I got to turn a lot of pages sitting second chair, and she would occasionally slap the sheet into place with the back of her bow to let me know that I had been a bit tardy. Beth was a serious person.

She had a younger sister Jane who seemed much more fun-loving. Jane was a grade behind me, and I forget now how we became acquainted. Anyway, she had a friend Cheryl Crone. And toward the end of my sunior year at Boulder High, I figured out that Cheryl had a crush on me. I liked to spend time with Jane, and I suppose Jane (as the good friend) acted as a kind of facilitator. Jane would call me up and suggest a hike or a movie and I would gladly accept. And when I arrived, Cheryl would be there, and we would all have a jolly good time together.

So it happened that after a hike one weekend in late June, I was standing in the Woolley's kitchen with Cheryl and Jane, and I mentioned my intention of climbing to the top of Bear Mountain on the 4th to camp and watch the fireworks. So Jane asked if she and Cheryl could come along and I said, "Sure." And Jane asked her mother if she could climb Bear Mountain and camp out with me on the 4th and her mother said, "Sure." And Cheryl called her mother and asked if she could climb Bear Mountain with Jane and me on the 4th and camp out over night, and her mother said, "Sure." I do not have the slightest idea what those mothers were thinking.

But, mothers handily aside, that was the plan and that's what we did. We assembled our camping gear and lots of caloric if not nutritious snacks. And some time in the late afternoon on the 4th, we headed off toward Bear Mountain. In those days, I could get to the summit of Bear Mountain in about 2 hours, but I allowed 4 hours, since I suspected that not everyone was as athletic as I. 

It was pretty close to dark by the time we reached the summit. We did not have time to cook dinner or pitch our tents, so we ate some snacks and sat down on the rocks to wait for the show to begin. Perhaps it bears mentioning that we were the only ones there, in case Bear Mountain has since become a popular fireworks viewing spot. But on that bicentennial occasion it was just us.

Every city along the front range was putting on it's best show, and we got the best show of all because we could see every one: Lyons, Longmont, Boulder, Brighton, Westminster, Arvada, Denver, Broomfield, Golden, Louisville, Lafayette, Lakewood and Thornton. We counted 13 separate fireworks displays. It was almost too much to take in, visually. And it was fine thing to have the company of two young women at that.

After the fireworks died down, we moved off the summit and had our dinner. I think we had brought along some sausages to roast. As we were approaching the summit, I had noticed a hollow filled with ferns, and that looked like a nice place for a tent. So I helped the girls pitch their tent there and then set up mine a bit higher up the slope. It was a relatively warm and windless night, so it was easy to sleep.

The next morning I clambered down, and we had breakfast together. Then we packed up our gear and hiked back home. And that was that.