I wish I had a nickel for every Fourth of July I've seen. Then I'd almost have enough for a Whopper. Here's the memory of the Fourth I've brought forth from misty distances: someone would hand me a sparkler and I'd run around in aimless circles in the backyard until it went out. That's it. Is it any wonder children have such poor reputations among humans, second only to oldsters? Running around in circles in the growing dark, holding frail sparks of light. And pretending to be careful not to put an eye out, which in those days was the primary concern of mothers. If there seems to be a surfeit of two-eyed people careening about today, we can thank mothers for that.