Patriotism used to run deep in my blood- in my bones. Born on the 4th of July there has always been a strong bond between me and this once Great Nation of the United States.
In years past that patriotism would stir an excitement in me as my birthday, and the birthday of our independence, came close. No matter what horrible things might be happening in our country, or in my personal life, I looked forward to July 4th with a great deal of eagerness. The ever hopeful part of me would believe that we as a country would come together to celebrate this day and all hatred, arguments, divisions, would fall away like magic and we could begin anew.
In recent years, as we’ve become a nation more divided than ever, that sense of excitement or hope has been waning, and quite honestly when Trump hosted the “UFC Freedom 250” on the South Lawn of the White House in June , I was so disgusted that I was about to give up on any type of celebration.
For me, or for the country.
But then a wise man I know from Twitter/X pointed out that this country is about the people. Not the ones in power.
Us.
The common people.
And we deserve to celebrate this special anniversary.
It’s not acceptance of what is happening in Washington, or validating the wars, the misuse of government positions, or the destruction of iconic parts of that honored space that includes the White House. Or the wars, or anything else.
It’s acceptance of each other as neighbors, people with the same needs and desires, and many with such good hearts.
So instead of scuttling my birthday party, which is smaller than in years past, but still fun time with some of my kids. I’ll wear my patriotic shirt, that I haven’t worn in two years, and I’ll sing, “Yankee Doodle Dandy” Like I used to. Well, maybe not like I used to as singing brings head pain, but I’ll give it a shot tomorrow.
I’ve always liked this essay from Slim Randles, which affirms what my online friend pointed out. Enjoy!
We all watched as the flag came by. It was the first thing in the parade, of course. Great big one, carried by two of the kids from the ROTC at the high school. The bands followed, along with the mounted patrol, the ski patrol in their summer-weight jackets, the float with the princesses on it, and the local kids leading dogs and cats – some rather reluctantly – on leashes.
For some of us, the Fourth of July parade is a chance to see just how much the local kids have grown over the past year. For others, it’s a chance to see something that is really ours. This is our valley. This is our town. This is our parade. These are our people. These are the people who make our little valley unique in the whole world. This is a chance for us all to get together and celebrate us, you know?
But all that comes later. What comes first on this day above all others is the American flag. Oh, it’s a great big one. Where they found this one, I don’t know, but it really doesn’t matter what size it is. It’s what it means to us that counts.
To Herb over there, there are memories of his terrible days in Korea, I’m sure, and the wounds that sent him home early. To Doc, maybe it’s the way the G.I. Bill let him go back to college and fulfill his life’s dream of taking care of sick people.
To Annette, over across the street there, there is a look in her eyes that tells us that flag meant she could protest whatever the complaint-du-jour was during her college days. She knows there are few places in the world this tolerant of unpopular opinions.
And then there’s Dewey down on the corner. He’s got his hand over his heart as the flag goes by. Maybe he’s thinking of a country that will allow him to start a business with a borrowed pickup and a shovel and supply our flower beds with fertilizer. He sure wasn’t able to make anything else work for him. And today this accident-prone pal of ours has branched out into fishing worms and compost.
But these are just speculations, because what the flag means to each of us is personal. We don’t have to tell anyone. We never have to explain. We even have the freedom not to be here looking as the flag goes by.
It’s an American thing. A very private American moment.
That’s all from me for today, folks. I hope my American readers have a wonderful day tomorrow. Whatever your plans, I hope they include family and friends and lots of fun. Hum a few bars of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” for me. Be safe. Be happy. Be kind.
