The Fourth

Late this evening (or is it morning already?) I was looking back over the archives and discovered that I sold my house on the 4th of July, 2001. That was seven years ago. Gosh, it doesn’t seem that long. As we sat around the campfire in the backyard last night listening to the booming thuds and whistling shrieks of rockets and firecrackers, I thought back to so many of my childhood memories of the July 4. It was always an exciting day. Often it began with a parade in downtown Hagaman (4 storefronts next to the waterfall). Then the next few hours was getting ready for the cookout. Usually we had people over for Dad’s creation on the grill – always amazing and a little unorthodox. If you have ever seen the Foxtrot comic about the guy blowing up the grill, that would be a pretty accurate visual of how Dad lit the charcoal grill. Boom! There was always family around, the crick to swim in, sparklers, the big swings, and lots of stories. Evening rolled around and it was time to go to the fireworks. In NY, you could not buy them on the corner like you can in Indiana, let alone set them off legally, so everyone would pile into cars and trucks and head out to the local high school athletic field for a big show. The guy who owned the local cable company usually put them on – he was a pretty wealthy guy I guess – and they were always great fun. For us it was a big production. The view is always pretty important, so since Dad had a dump truck… that is what we drove. There not too many vehicles that are going to block your view while you are lying on the ledge over the roof of a big old dump truck in the middle of a sea of station wagons.

The fourth was always a meaningful day in our house. We all knew the reason for it, and there was great respect for our country and our flag. I remember hearing Lee Greenwood’s proud to be an American (before it got overused) on the radio, and I was proud. I was proud to be a part of a place where people gave their lives so that I could have the privilege and the freedoms that so many in the world did not and do not have. When you are a kid you see things so much more simply. Now, it’s hard to feel the same way anymore – everyone has an agenda, everyone has their hand out, and it seems like the politicians are clueless and don’t have our interest at heart. I wonder that if in all our “progress” we have lost the ability to be thankful. Many are jaded and cynical. Even more are hopeless or apathetic. Our freedom and independence came with a price, but it can be lost if we choose to give it up.

On days like these, I wish I could be a kid again — sitting way up in the back of the truck, looking at the black sky and the bursts of colored light overhead, hearing the sounds of car horns and cheers of approval, and feeling so proud to be an American.