I’m not a big Fourth of July fan, it always ends up with some sort of property damage to my home. Six years ago we got new neighbors behind us and they started a new July 4th tradition for us.

My in-laws live a block over from us so we can see the back of our house from their front yard. Not counting my daughter there were six grandchildren, so my mother in law asked me to come over and help supervise some fireworks for the kids. No problem. We have a great time with the safe and sane stuff and we have a water bucket, sand and a hose, just in case.

As we are wrapping up because it is getting late for the little ones, the new neighbors decide to start theirs. They have chosen to do illegal fireworks and they are setting off M-80’s. We take the kids in so they don’t get hurt and as the adults roll up the hose my husband glances up and says, “Honey, there is smoke coming from over there. Looks like it’s a block or two over.” I love him but apparently he is geographically challenged. By now you all know exactly whose house is on fire. I still did not. When he mentions the smoke I come out to look. WOW! you can see the flames -- on the eaves of my house.

We had to run all the way to the end of the block around the end and then down our block to get to our house. Did I mention my daughter was born July 31 that year? OK, my husband ran -- I waddled along behind as fast as I could. By then the next door neighbors and the people across the street were using garden hoses to try to put it out. The five dogs we had at the time were all going nuts and the fire trucks with flashing lights and huge water pressure that knock your roof tiles off added that special festive touch.

Each year since then they have managed to set something on fire; my tree, my shrubs, my fence.....

So this year, we plan to continue our tradition of calling the police and the fire department as those very "special" neighbors continue their tradition of accidentally lighting my house or landscaping on fire.

While I really appreciate the sentiment of the holiday, I share Elizabeth’s melancholy that we can’t do fun things for fear of our house being incinerated.