Letter from the Editor | There are some things that just scream Fourth of July.

The smell of sunscreen. The sound of fireworks echoing across a small town. Kids with sticky hands from melted popsicles. Red, white and blue everywhere you look.

For me, though, the Fourth has always smelled like diesel fuel and turnout gear.

Growing up as the daughter of a firefighter meant that Independence Day, Labor Day and just about any other holiday that involved a parade also involved me ri…