Lovely memory. I also remember the feeling of being safe, the adults in such firm control; women holding us in their laps or lying next to us on blankets and the men disappearing into the shadowy foreground, crouching to light a wick, then scuttling backwards to get away.
Once my older brother jabbed me in the ear with a sparkler punk, I think by accident, and although it burned a bit it didn't go in far enough to cause real damage. But it was enough to make the grown-ups put an end to our sparkler fun for that night. Jerk.
Later, as an adult and parent, I was apalled to see those firecracker men, now my age, were clueless about the danger of what they were doing, and often full of beer and bravado. And I wondered if the big brave men from my past were too. Naw, couldn't be.