In 1959 I traded 10 cat-eye marbles to my cousin Gene for this plastic red devil. Budding satanism was not my motivation. No, it reminded me of my favorite summer holiday, the 4th of July, and the block party box of fireworks my Uncle Don always brought to the family BBQ. When I look at this little guy, what I really see are bottle rockets etching a slow arc across a July sky, my dad's face glowing sulphurous yellow beneath a shower of sparks from a roman candle, pin wheels nailed to old fence posts and streaming out the essence of incandescence.