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“America is a tune. It must be sung together.”

July 4, 2017

I have traditional posts for most holidays. When I try to write something new, I find I can’t do better. It seems I poured all of my feelings and memories into the very first post, but here is an old memory I’m happy to share: when I was a kid, I marched in St. Patrick’s Shamrocks, a drill team which competed all summer long. All winter we learned our on-field maneuvers. We marched in local parades including the one in Wakefield on July 4th. One of my parents’ friends had a house on the parade route. Everyone would be on the lawn or the front porch to watch the parade. When St. Pat’s marched by the house, everyone yelled my name. I was both embarrassed and delighted. That’s one of my favorite memories of the day.

I just love birthdays and today is the grandest of them all. Happy Birthday, America.

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.”

The problem was he 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 so because July 4th appears on the Declaration, it became the date we celebrate Independence.

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 celebrating 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, eat the same foods or dress in the same way, but we all celebrate today and we share a love of country. Happy Birthday, America, from all of us Americans.

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“May the sun in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more lovely, than this our own country! “

July 4, 2013

July 4th was always exciting when I was growing up. The next town over had one of the great parades which seemed to last forever filled as it was with bands and floats. We’d go to a house right on the parade route which had a huge porch where we’d all hang out to watch the parade. The table inside was covered with foods like potato salad and hot dogs and burgers and watermelon. Popsicles were in the freezer. It was eat when you’re hungry. At night came the fireworks. We never went that often, but I could see them from my house when they colored the sky high in the air. When I was older and a member of a drill team, I marched in that parade. When we’d get to the white house with the porch, the whole crowd of people would yell my name. I was both embarrassed and pleased. When I was older, my friends and I would go to the fireworks. We’d bring a blanket and some food and stake out a spot right near the water over which the fireworks would burst. We couldn’t help ourselves. The oohs and ahs came out of our mouths almost every time fireworks burst overhead and filled the sky with colors and patterns.

I remember the decorated carriage and bicycle contests held in the morning, before the parade. My sister won the year she was a hula girl. Her  doll carriage was frilled with colored crepe paper looking like a hula skirt.

One year I saw Big Bother Bob Emery at the bandstand near the lake. He was on television every day when I was a little kid. I remember we’d toast President Eisenhower with milk as Hail to the Chief played. Big Brother was a TV icon to me. He’d play his uke and sing The Grass Is Always Greener.

I remember sparklers and how excited we were to have our own fireworks. I’d hold the sparkler as close to the bottom as I could when my father lit the top. I remember how sometimes a spark would land on my hand or arm and how it burned just a little. We’d spin the sparklers and make our own light show. The sparklers made a hissing sound when they burned. We’d each get one at a time and then we could back for more until the boxes were empty.

July 4th seemed to last forever, well into the night, well beyond my usual bedtime.

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“The United States is the only country with a known birthday.”

July 1, 2011

The weather each day is spoiling me with its warm sun and cool breezes. If I could invent the perfect weather, the last couple of days would have been patented under my name. The birds are singing, the spawns of Satan are chasing each other from tree to tree and Gracie is taking a nap. I feel like I’m in a Disney movie.

This is the first big weekend of the season. Cars will be bumper to bumper waiting their turns over the bridge. Bicycles will be hanging off racks on the back. The wait to get here is easily endured. The wait to leave never is. I have to go off cape tonight to a family party celebrating my aunt and uncle’s 50th wedding anniversary. He went into the hospital earlier this week, but we were just told he is being discharged today in time for his party. Today, fifty years ago, was their exact wedding day.

I have no plans for the weekend itself. This is when most of us who live here start to hibernate. Monday I’ll go down the street to my friends’ for a barbecue. We’ll do the all-American July4th menu of burgers and franks and deviled eggs I hope. It’s traditional after all. Later I’ll put out the bunting on my fence and add flags to the garden. My flamingo will be dressed like Uncle Sam.

Through my teen years, I always marched with my drill team in the July 4th parade, a huge one in the next town over from ours. The parade still exists and is still huge. People put out chairs in the pre-dawn hours to reserve seats on the sidewalks beside the road. The ones under trees are prime seating. The sellers of balloons and such walk up and down the route selling their wares. Every year I watched some poor kid see his balloon fly high into the sky. The kid always cried and most times got another balloon which was tied more tightly to a wrist.

Lat night I could hear fireworks from further down the street, and every night now through the 4th we’ll hear bursts and blasts. Celebrating a country’s birthday should never be confined to just a single day!

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