Suquamish Does the Fourth of July Like No Other

I have had the good fortune of spending a few of my days in a tiny little town on the Port Madison Reservation called Suquamish. On one side, its edges meet with a slender strip of the Puget Sound across which Seattle looms like a life-size postcard. On the other side sits Poulsbo, a small Viking town that is so (and I hate to use this word but it really does fit) quaint that one must go there to believe it. (More on Poulsbo in a future hub..).

The people of Suquamish, in my experience, are hard-working, laid-back, and really know how to party. I made some very good friends there, and I'll never forget the crazy adventures we had. They are certainly worthy of being chronicled, but can wait for now as I want to share with you why Suquamish is my pick for Best Fourth of July Celebration Anywhere.

I will never forget my first Independence Day celebration in Suquamish. Everyone had been telling me with cryptic overtones that it would be a party like none I'd seen. "Make sure to bring a hard hat" or "Betcha never seen real fireworks like the ones we do," they said to me with a mischevious lilt to their voices, their eyes catching each other's with knowing looks.

While I was excited to be there, on this beautiful island, I wondered how it was that these forest-dwelling friends of mine could boast so confidently. After all, I was a city kid - we have seen it all and are far too cool to be excited by small-town affairs. I was sure that it was probably the highlight of their secluded existence, and was all set to be patronizingly praiseful of their big Fourth of July shindig.

So the Fourth arrived and, like any good citizens, my friends and I spent the earlier part of the day drinking and watching television. Unbeknownst to me at the time, several local families were manning the firework stands that dotted the edges of the main highway just outside of town as they had been doing day and night in the weeks leading up to the holiday.

See, the firework business is huge in Suquamish and many tribal members invest large amounts of money in to merchandise to be sold during this one very lucrative time of year. I started to hear stories from the local youth about families who would purchase brand new vehicles, boats, and other luxury items from their firework profits. I don't know how accurate the individual stories I heard were, but there's no doubt that some people in Suquamish are making money selling whizzers and whatsits to locals and tourists alike.

Back to the humbling of RooBee. Night finally arrived and the entire town gathered near the shore at The Slab, which is a good-sized cement square located at the center of town where nearly all gatherings and celebrations are held. We had a perfect view of Seattle from the seaside and would be privy to the dazzling multi-million dollar show they would put on just off the piers. At least there would be that.

Several people took turns lighting mediocre 'crackers and children milled about precariously with blazing sparklers pinched between their fingers. As it got later, I heard someone say "they just closed the stands." Great, I thought. Now nobody can even purchase anymore ammo for this 'party' we were supposedly having! Apparently, that was it - but wait.

More people were just showing up - a lot more. An excitement seemed to be buzzing through the crowd. Did I miss something? Yes. I did.

Up in the parking lot, trucks began pulling in one after the other. Nice trucks. Brand new, four-door trucks with huge tires and fancy wheels. Men poured out of each one, heading straight to the bed of their respective rigs, where they helped one another lift out some strange and foreign objects that I couldn't quite make out from where I stood.

Now people were getting really anxious, some were cheering. The crowd parted like the Red Sea to allow the truck-men access to The Slab. As each group of guys passed by, I saw that the devices they carried could indeed help this party to get interesting very quickly. Each group of 3 to 5 men had brought a section of plywood roughly 6' x 6' in size, to which every manner of firework imaginable had been fastened. Each of these were connected to the next by one ridiculously long fuse. Were they actually going to light these things and set off a chain reaction of pyrotechnics? I must tell you at this point that these were not your run-of-the-mill fireworks, these were the big ones. The kind that are illegal off the reservation.

No matter, as before I could fully comprehend the possible danger at hand, some of the men lit the great fuses in unison. In a matter of seconds, the entire area was ablaze with explosions of color. Huge mortars blasted into the air, opening in to umbrellas of light in the sky above us. Bottle rockets whistled, and fountains of sparks spewed every which way. This continued for several minutes, at least, until I began to feel as if I were in a war movie.

The crowd hooted, hollered, and ducked as the occasional blazing ember whizzed by. By the time it was all over, I had completely forgotten about the Seattle show. Never have I been so close to the epicenter of a firework display. It was a Suquamish thing. You see, the men were the proprieters of the firework stands and in a literal blow-out of inventory, they had used their unsold stock to delight and dazzle the rest of us.

They do this every year. It is testament to the integral part this extremely seasonal venture plays in their local economy. It is a crazy-fun and highly impressive spectacle and I miss it each time I sit on some safe city perch watching a far-off Fourth of July show glitter on the horizon.