Today is France’s version of the Fourth of July, a national holiday in the country of baguettes and stinky cheese, but a day that comes and goes with little fanfare in the U.S., outside of some street festivals in cities such as New York and Chicago. In fact, had you not read this far, perhaps you wouldn’t have known today is La Fête Nationale — otherwise known as Bastille Day. I’m guessing you’re not making crêpes for dinner.

Still, if we recognized the importance of the French-American bond, and that the very fabric of American society includes countless French threads, perhaps we’d pause, even for just a moment, to acknowledge how our lives have been shaped by these croissant-eating, espresso-drinking Europeans. We should. You could even pour yourself a glass of red wine. Did you need any excuse to do that?

Let’s start with the very foundation of our nation. Americans point with pride to victory in World War II, when the U.S. helped liberate France from German occupation. But consider that more than 150 years prior, we likely wouldn’t have won our first war without French aid. Benjamin Franklin spent much of the American Revolution in Paris lobbying for support, and had it not offered money, supplies and troops, we might not today be living in the Land of the Free.

But the French fueled not only America’s independence but also its expansion. About 50 years after the war, Thomas Jefferson bought parts of 15 present-day states and part of Canada from Napoleon at the clearance-sale price of about 3 cents an acre. School history books call it the Louisiana Purchase. It’s also the greatest bargain in real estate history.

There are more visible reminders of the ties that bind our nation with France. In fact, some are so big they’re impossible to miss. Like our Statue of Liberty, a gift from France, and the Ferris Wheel, an American invention borne at the Chicago World’s Fair to compete with the Eiffel Tower.

Other French stamps on our culture are more subtle. Disciplines such as art, architecture and medicine in the U.S. have been greatly influenced by those who studied in and returned to America from 19th-century Paris, then the cultural and scientific capital of the world. French contributions have trickled down to everyday American life, too. If you’ve worn a polo shirt (Lacoste), gone to the movies (Lumière) or enjoyed a glass of store-bought milk (Pasteur), make sure you say a merci at some point today.

For some, the connection is more personal. Our area, populated with settlers from Quebec in the mid-1800s, has more French influence than most. Consider the names our towns, none more recognizable than Bourbonnais, a fur trader who arrived here about 20 years after the Louisiana Garage Sale. He was followed by La Vasseur, who ushered more French Canadians to the area. Now, about 200 years later, your friends and neighbors, classmates and co-workers — the Arseneaus, Bertrands, Denaults, Papineaus, Regniers and yours truly — trace their lineage back to French roots.

Unfortunately, for as many French names in America, there are that many American names dotting the French landscape. Between the two World Wars, nearly three million Americans served in France, and as a result, rows of white crosses blanket cemeteries in Normandy and elsewhere. If you’ve been there, you know the solemn emotion that is conjured up by the sight of these waves of grave markers on foreign soil. More Americans are buried there than any other country but our own.

Of course, none of this means you need to cancel you weekend plans to read Proust or stop using the #murica hashtag on your Instagram photos. Perhaps, though, you’d take just a moment to recognize how your life has been influenced by the French. My father remembers his grandparents speaking some French in their home, and I went as far as living and working in France for a short time. I think my cologne is French, too. I know my fries are. And those cuffs on that one white dress shirt, too.

Et toi? Go ahead. Pause and think about it. Then sip that glass of red wine.