If I invented a morning, it would be today’s morning. The sky is so blue it looks like a painting by an artist with an eye for color. The air is cooled by a slight breeze. The sun is eye squintingly bright. The backyard is in shadows with the sun glinting through the leaves. My coffee is hot and strong. I’m on cup two. I had a bagel with cream cheese. Everything is perfect.

When I woke up, I was the rose between the thorns, the cream inside the cookies, the silver lining. The dogs were on either side of me. I couldn’t move. They were comfortable. Such is a dog’s life in my house.

When I was a kid, Saturday was a sacred day. It didn’t matter the season. The whole day was mine, at least until bath time. In winter I went to the movies or ice skated or sledded it there was snow. In summer I roamed sometimes on foot but mostly on my bike. Every Saturday started with Rice Krispies and the TV. Even when I became an adult, Saturday stayed sacred. I never did school work. Saturday night I’d be with friends either having a game night or a movie night. Saturday was always fun.

I loved my town’s library. I was a frequent visitor. It had a children’s side and an adult’s side. I graduated from the child’s side to the other side when I entered high school. The tables and chairs were all wooden on both sides. Round tables and short tables were on the children’s side while long tables were on the other side. I remember old people sitting on chairs in the periodical room reading magazines and newspapers. I never did. I was there for books. On school nights, the chairs and tables were filled with high school kids supposedly doing homework. Going to the library was a perfect way out of the house on a school night. I didn’t know most of the kids. They went to Stoneham High. They were there to meet up, to be social and pretend to be studying. I was just there for the books.

I have a quiet few days, nothing on my dance card. Next week, though, is heavy with uke. I have my usual practice and lesson plus three concerts. This week the music is about funny foods.

My plans for the day are simple. I have to water the deck plants. After that, I figure I’ll stay outside and read the day away. Maybe I’ll even nap on the lounge chair and enjoy the sun and the cool breeze. I suspect the dogs will join me on the deck and nap in the sun.

Happy July 4th!

I have a traditional musing for today, but I figured I’d give you an update first. Last night was light blanket weather. The earlier morning had kept the chill, but it is now 70°. The yard is bathed in sunlight. The birds are the only sounds I hear. I have a uke concert in Hyannis this afternoon. We’ll be playing Songs Across America with a rousing patriotic set at the end. 

I just love birthdays and today is the grandest of them all. 

On July 3rd 1776, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife Abigail. In it, he predicted the celebrations for American Independence Day, including the parties:

“It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other.”

John Adams expected July 2nd to be Independence Day as that was the day the Second Continental Congress voted for independence, but the signing ceremony for the Declaration of Independence didn’t happen until two days later on July 4th, the date listed on the document. That is why July 4th is our Independence Day.

I know some people complain that the meaning of the day is lost in the barbecues and the fireworks, but they have forgotten John Adams’ hope. We are honoring the day exactly as he wished. Flags are waving everywhere. Families get together to celebrate and to break bread, albeit hot dog rolls. Fireworks illuminate the sky. Baseball is played on small town fields and in huge stadiums. Drums beat the cadence in parades. We sing rousing songs celebrating America and our freedom. We also sing heartfelt songs about what America means to us. We are many sorts of people, we Americans. We don’t all look the same, practice the same religion, eat the same foods or dress in the same way, but we all celebrate today.

“You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4th, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.” Happy Birthday, America, from all of us Americans.