What's Yellow and Orange and Requires Two Cranes to Take a Swim?

It's Labor Day weekend in Cincinnati, and for the last 27 years that has meant crowds on the riverworks and fireworks. FOr the last several years, ever since the Reds were convinced to give up Labor Day Sunday games, it has meant crowds numbered in the fractions of a million, half or so being reasonable.

An all day party that has bands, a rubber duck race, lots of people and choreographed explosions. This year I got down to the river about oneish. They hadn't closed off the streets yet and I got a prime parking space in a garage for $10. Then it's sit and read or play cards for awhile, until about 2:30. Then I went to watch the ducks.

Rubber duck races are a charity event. You buy a numbered duck, and they sell a lot of ducks. Then, at three o'clock they dump them in the river for a race. How many ducks? Well, the picture below shows the cranes and the trailer as they raise the duckies up and then dump them down into a temporary coffer dam.

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And then they head for the finish line


After the winning duck is picked, they are towed downriver


And scooped out with nets into dumpsters, forklifted into a truck and shoveled toward the front.


After the ducks, it's still a few hours to the fireworks but there is much to see. Across the river is the Belle of Cincinnati, one of the4 grand old dames of the river, a true paddle wheel.



Cincinnati is defined by the river, it's culture and history. Just downriver from the bridge the Showboat Majestic lies anchored. There was a time when such boats were common, being towed from town to town to drop anchor for a night or two and selling tickets to performances. With the advent of movies and automobiles and other forms of easily accesible entertainment, the era of showboats, like the era of paddlewheelers, faded into memory, but the Showboat Majestic lives on, permanently anchored she still has shows and provides a wonderful legacy of living history, the last remaining showboat that actually plied the river.



The river is closed to all non-essential traffic as they prepare to move the barges up river. The police and coast guard boats have established the boundaries of the fire zone.  The four tow boats with eight barges  packed with explosives are coming into view and the traditional salute has been given, the barges throwing a concussion of white light into the air to say "Here we are!" and the bridges firing a response to say "Welcome!"



Soon the flotilla will split, one barge group almost dead in front of where I sit and the other continuing up river of the bridge that straddles the Ohio and separates the two detonation zones.

Three fighter jets have just flown by, fire spouting from their tails, their loud drone temporarily drowning out the excited chatter and the comments of the crowd. With the second barge set moved up river, the one in front of me sidles its engines to position the barges squarely in between the banks. Aboard the barges, Rozzi employees scamper, like little Prometheuses preparing to bring much more than fire to the mortals assembled for this display.

Meanwhile, a family of ducks serenely paddles along the riverbank, unaware that in a short time the heavens will open in a pyrotechnic display to rival Zeus.

The barges are in place and another salute from one to the other. And the sun has set enough that I am putting up my pen and preparing to enjoy the show.

Tomorrow I will attempt to capture in words what my poor camera tried to capture below.

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Peace, gentle readers