Independence Day 2016
I was already reasonably happy when I awoke on the morning of the 4th of July, 2016. A good breakfast and strong coffee did nothing to dispel my mood. On another day we might have stayed right where we were, but today was no ordinary day. This was the last Independence Day we’d enjoy stateside, maybe for years to come. The ghost of Thomas Jefferson was urging us out the door, saying, “Come on! There’s more happiness over the hill! Get out there and pursue it!”
With our good friends (and temporary hosts) Eve and Ken leading the way, we walked up the hill to the local elementary school. There, in the parking lot, a small parade of decorated wagons, tricycles, scooters and bicycles was assembling. For something like 50 years, as long as this neighborhood has existed, the local families have organized this event for their kids. In fact, for about ten years, while his kids were young, Ken, who stands about 6' 4", cut an impressive figure as Uncle Sam himself. He strode along the parade route, leading with his chin, to which was attached a long, snow-white goatee. The new Uncle Sam is clean-shaven, even in our new era of beardedness. Still, he was resplendent as he strode along at the back of the parade, making sure no child was left behind. At the front was the all-important fire truck, lending gravitas to the event. Parade organizers’ first job is to reserve it before bordering neighborhoods snatch the favored time-slot. It’s understood that if a fire breaks out, the parade may need to continue without its vehicular leader. According to local lore, this has happened only once.
The parade made a circuit of one block, then wound up back where it started, in the school parking lot. Here the hungry and thirsty found typical 4th of July fare: hot dogs, watermelon, “slushies,” popcorn and cheeseballs. Thus fortified, contests of strength and agility soon ensued on the grassy fields nearby: tug-of-war, sprints and sack races.
Even the strong sustenance provided by hot dogs and cheeseballs begins to wane at some point, so we gathered later for a cookout on Eve and Ken’s patio. Eve prepared salmon patties, chicken and more hot dogs on the grill, while we chatted with Ken and a few family members. Pasta salad with pesto, potato salad, olives and sugar-snap peas from Eve and Ken’s garden rounded out our plates. Citronella candles kept mosquitos at bay, though we’ve had surprisingly few of them so far this year.
“What about fireworks?” whispered the ghost of Thomas Jefferson. Though it was hard to imagine more happiness after this meal with friends and family and few mosquitos, we had to agree. Off Rita and I went, then, to meet our friends Joel and Terry. We’ve often gone with them to see fireworks at Monona’s Winnequah Park, where you feel the ground shake and sparks sometimes descend on your (fire retardant) blanket. This time, though, we decided to simply walk over to the lake shore park near their house, from which vantage we could watch the fireworks on the other side. Joel and I tossed a frisbee. As darkness fell, a neighborhood bluegrass band arrived and set themselves up on the green grass. As the fireworks sparkled and boomed, both in the park and across the lake, and the music wafted around, Tom’s ghost seemed satisfied, at least for today. “Happy 4th, everyone!”
