It’s the Fourth. I did not brave the rain this morning to watch for my daughter in the local parade. I picked her up when it was over. Her red, white and blue t-shirt was damp, her red shorts, too.
Damp falls far short of describing my depressed patriotic spirit today.
But the weather has cleared up, it's evening, and I’m sitting in the park listening to a cover band entertain the crowd until it’s dark enough for the fireworks to begin.
I don’t think anyone’s here for the music, but live music does seem to say this is the place to be. Celebrate, come on. There are a few women standing and dancing. I’m guessing they’ve had a beverage or two. And we just heard a round of “USA, USA” yelled from the bandstand. The band leader tired but if anyone picked that up, well, I’m too far away to hear it.
The people-watching is good. Children with parents. Parents and kids on the blanket next to me are playing a card game. Teens are casing the crowd, pairs of girls in shorts and crop tops. Who’s here, who’s new. And plenty of people like me who are doing stuff on their phones. Not much conversation. The music is LOUD.
I like fireworks. I’m hoping these will brighten the end of July 4, 2025. I’ve been working on threading my loom today (and yesterday, and the day before yesterday), and I’m looking forward to sitting here in the dark, hearing the whoosh after the shell is lit, that second of suspense, and then the pow! and exploding sphere of blue or red or white light. And again the suspense before the sparks fade and fall.
Lots of kinds of people here. This is the suburb where I grew up, and it’s a more diverse place now than it was then. The kids I grew up with have mostly moved elsewhere, farther away from the city.
It’s a hard year for celebrating the birth of the American nation, a nation founded on ideas. What can we count on as shared values when fundamental words like liberty and freedom and citizen mean different things to different people and parties. Where are we headed with the country led by a narcissistic, stupid, boastful man with an unfortunate gift for getting attention and with no moral compass for how to use power.
This too shall pass? Or will the things that are breaking stay broken for a long time? Those white men who met in Philadelphia 249 years ago and pledged each other their lives and their sacred honor — the sky just exploded! — started something we keep trying to make better. A more perfect union. A more caring and inclusive society. Lincoln's "last best hope."
Here in the park, the fireworks kicked off with the "Star Spangled Banner" on the loudspeaker. It was followed by Bruce Springsteen and “Born in the USA.”
A protest song. Damn, it’s a patriotic night.
