Generally, my family does not celebrate any national holiday on the intended day due to scheduling conflicts. Last Thanksgiving I was expecting to dine on the traditional Thursday and called my daughter to confirm. I was informed “Thursday really doesn’t work for us. We’re thinking Monday would be good.” There was no holiday traffic on Monday and I had a lot to be thankful for.

So when this 4th of July rolled around I figured we’d be celebrating on a random day in August or September. Nope – I’m told July 4th works for July 4th. I know in my bones this is going to be a nightmare, but I’m a super patriot so I’m going to concentrate on the red and white and just forget about having the blues.

Fast forward to July 4th on Arizona state route 17 allegedly heading north to my destination of Sedona. Thanks to a vehicle fire seven miles ahead, my 87 year old mother and I are sitting in traffic that hasn’t moved a single inch in over two hours. Thousands of cars and trucks are gridlocked in front of us as far as the eye can see.

Turimg back is inconceivable – the median is so steep and rocky that Lewis & Clark wouldn’t dream of crossing it. It’s 110 degrees outside so shutting your engine down/losing your air conditioning is only an option for the criminally insane. People have gotten out of their cars and are walking their dogs and those who don’t own canines are walking prairie dogs. The more literary-minded realists begin listening to the audiobook of War and Peace.

A word about my dear mother. She’s at an age where it helps her to read everything aloud and her specialty is street and highway signs. Since we began this trip up she has announced EVERY ONE of the seemingly MILLIONS of street and highway signs that have come our way. We have taken this same trip many times before and none of the scenery has changed, but it’s all a wonderland of thrillingly fresh innovation to Mom. Consequently, interspersed with “Prescott – 25 miles!” or “Happy Valley Road!”, she marvels at roughly 15 second intervals, “This is new, isn’t it, Barry?”

Back to us at a dead stop. It’s a two lane highway and I’m in the right lane. In front of us is a Beamer with a California plate. In the left lane is a Ford Explorer from Utah. Displaying her immense versatility, my mother has now transitioned to constant traffic news reports. “We’ve still got California AX797 over here and we’ve still got Utah WGA835″ over there.” She proceeds to repeat this information 73 BILLION times.

I’m not happy. Is it illegal to Taser your mother?

“I’ll tell you one thing, Barry. That California car is never going to make it to California tonight and the Utah people can forget about getting to Utah.”

I gently explain that a car’s license plate does not indicate it’s daily destination.

“Why do you always have to be so sarcastic, Barry? Incidentally, I’m still looking at California AX797 and if you think Utah WGA835 has moved one bit, you’re kidding yourself.”

Is this what Hell is like? Blazing hot with your mother chanting the same two license plate numbers over and over for eternity?

“I think you should change lanes, Barry.”

“Change lanes??? Mom, neither lane is moving!”

“I know, but I’d rather be behind the Utah car. I hear Mormons are nice. Very family-oriented. Not like you.”

Four and a half hours later we arrive in Sedona and it’s very soothing. My grandchildren have apparently been injecting pure cane sugar directly into their craniums and are ransacking the house for jewelry, cash and more Snickerdoodles.

Making sure no adults are within earshot I gather the adorable little cretins around me and announce, “Kids, I just want you to know I’ve brought a lot of firecrackers with me and for the grand finale I’m going to put a lit sparkler in each ear, one in each nostril and then I’m tying together 100 firecrackers with a delayed fuse and throwing them down the front of my pants.”

A few hours later my daughter approaches me in full Stealth mode – she’s on a Search & Destroy mission. “Dad, what the hell did you tell Maya? I just heard her on the phone with one of her friends and she said, “This is so cool! At the end of the night my grandpa is going to blow his penis off!”

Hey, it’s all about family.

So you want a Blanket Of The Month, do you? Okay, put this one in your pants and light it. From my very own collection comes this explosive Beacon blanket c. 1925.

BANG!