Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Fourth of July. A great tradition indeed. If we didn't blow up things in the air, how would we celebrate independence from the Brits? Well, we'd probably shoot something (nevermind, forget I mentioned that). Anyways, I'm going to talk about the fourth of July and you can't stop me.
During my youth, my aunts would tease me and say "Do they have a fourth of July in England" and I would stupidly say "No! It's an America holiday." And they would say "Yes they do!" And then we would occur to me minutes later what they mean't. We'd all go "Hahaha" and then join in spontaneous community singing of the Star Spangled banner. That's pretty much how the saga went (except for I'm telling a great big fib right now).
For some reason, I always found myself sleeping on a trundle bed around the time of year and in the big city at their house being served pasta salad and black bean chips and some other healthy nonsense. Sometimes we would go to a neighborhood parade and watch all manner of riff raff parade (haha) past us. I remember several summers in the hot heat enjoying the American holiday with doting aunts catering to every whim of their be-freckled niece. As a young impressionable child, I was so impressed with neighborhood parades and envious of those who walked in them. Someday I would be in a parade and everyone would look at me too and I'd throw candy at people violently.
Well, now that I've gained a few years, I've got a bit more experience under this belt of mine and I've celebrated dozens of fourths of July's. This year, to celebrate independence from British imperialism, I did what I always did, watched fireworks and made "ooh" "aaah" noises. Then later conversations of "such and such was my favorite firework" "I like it when it sort of blows up and fizzles away towards the ground" "Oh me too!" "I liked the one that looks like a cowboy hat" "That wasn't a cowboy hat, it was a butterfly!" "Was not!" "etc."
Funny, when I was a kid, this holiday was "kind of a big deal." I was speechless and aghast at the fireworks. Some of them were so close to me, I instinctively moved my head back and thought the sparks would get me.
The whole point of this holiday went over my head when I was in my youth. I just liked seeing pretty things in the sky and eating cakes decorated with blueberries and strawberries in American flags. Now I realize the point of this holiday; freedom and independence.
And yet what better way to celebrate independence by playing with fire and blowing things up in the sky?