Tuesday, July 9, 2019
By:
Frank L. Vandersloot came from a modest upbringing. His childhood years spent in the largely untouched terrains of Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho were graced by neither monetary bounty nor the elegance such riches can afford. No, life for lil’ Franky Vandey played out on the range, the very same where the deer and the antelope play. When the siren song of a college education perked his ears, the young Vandersloot provided the means for his schooling by working as a cleaner at a laundromat. After completing his degrees in business and marketing, Frank took off for the private sector and began his gradual climb up the corporate ladder. The rest is legend. Today the deeds of the once humble rancher are now deified in the history books of the gem state, his accomplishments a testament to the good-ole American way. Frank L. Vandersloot, my enraptured readers, is the richest man in Idaho.
Growing up in Idaho Falls I was reminded annually of Vandersloot’s unfaltering benevolence by the Melaleuca Freedom Celebration. Every year my home state’s wealthy benefactor pledges his resources in crafting the “largest firework show West of the Mississippi” each Fourth of July. Sure, a quick search on the internet for the best and biggest fireworks shows in America provides a series of websites whose lists do not contain even a whisper of Vandersloot’s pyrotechnic spectacular (yep, not even accuweather.com...for shame accuweather.com), but to those residing in Southeastern Idaho it is the grandest display of red-white-and-blue patriotism to be found. In fact, the event inspires countless peripheral firework shows throughout the entire month--primarily hosted in backyards. Independence Day is an unrivaled holiday for the classic Idahoan.
You can imagine my expectations coming out to Washington DC. Vandersloot can certainly throw a lower tier billionaire bash, but this is the nation’s capital we’re talking about, the very seat of global power in a unipolar world. Gosh-by-goll-by-golly, I demanded an experience that would put crimson in the cheeks of the magnetic Mayor Caspor and the determined Detective DeeDee, two of IF’s most valiant champions (the latter having exposed our local pseudo-communist--and high school peer--as the perpetrator in the infamous 2017 inside-job Subway burglary). Fortunately, the stars so aligned to give me just what I wanted.
After a thoroughly American cookout in room 211, the merry troupe of physics majors (along with just more than a few guests) made its way to the steps of the Capitol building. Our connection on the Hill, Gia Jadick, worked the front gate like a charm. A smile, a quick flash of the badge--boom--we were in. Operation “Early Arrival” proceeded perfectly. At 3 in the afternoon, we had our pick of any spot on the Capitol steps. The group laid out its blankets, pulled out the crosswords, and prepared for the long wait. Two hours later, amidst the pouring rain and the blazing lightning, a voice interrupted the ongoing rehearsal of “Locomotion” urging us to evacuate.
‘Twas here the Fellowship disbanded. Most opted to turn back to the dorms, the possibility of returning somewhat ambiguous. I decided to see what additional adventures the national mall might provide and joined Nolan and his visiting lady-friend Brooke. United in cause and in spirit, the three of us ventured out into the clamor. Whilst the talking and the walking, we were quick to notice a face painting stand. Deeming it a worthy stop, we enlisted the volunteers to inscribe symbols that gave true deference to the holiday. Brooke got stars, Nolan requested a NASA rocket, and I settled on the noble bird. Now freshly equipped with patriotism printed boldly across our faces, we continued our trek. After a considerable amount of the before mentioned walking, we caught whiff of a rumor that the gates to the Capitol steps had reopened. We alerted the others and made haste to the entrance. To our delight, many of our original companions from earlier in the day made the return journey to enjoy the concert live and among friends. Undeterred by rain, lightning, or fatigue, we had all finally arrived ready to claim our prize.
I am happy to report DC did not disappoint. The concert adeptly balanced gorgeous visuals (John Stamos) with substantive performances (Carole King). In classic US fashion, the first fireworks were launched to the awesome music of Tchaikovsky’s ode to Russia. Perfectly themed indeed. The fireworks show, which boasted enough firepower to light the sky for 40 minutes, was obscured by smoke in ten. It caused little concern, however. At that point, the fireworks were only a supplement to the already exciting and electric atmosphere. From protests to patriotic fervor, Washington DC had succeeded in crafting an exceptionally unique and entirely American Fourth of July experience.
I know far, far above me (some 4700 feet more specifically), Frank Vandersloot is looking down with approval.
Nicholas Stubblefield