I am melancholy with the spirit of summer. Perhaps it is the pending holiday that pits my memory against the realities of today or – perhaps it is the “aging process” that confronts and confounds me as I fully grasp the reality of the “shortness of life”.
That said, my melancholy cries out for a dissertation and thus, I am posting my whimsy here where it can be ignored by millions of people rather than to bore one poor unfortunate person with my old age giddy.
As the 4th of July celebration looms ahead, I remember with great fondness the celebrations of my youth. Our Fourth of July was a celebration on a par with Thanksgiving and Christmas but it was different. The 4th of July was a combination of celebration of independence and renewal. Family, friends and neighbors joined together to celebrate, remember and appreciate the gift of independence that we had been presented by our forefathers. It was a day in which we celebrated that for which our ancestors had so courageously fought and left to us to appreciate. For those who may have thought that the arrival of their ancestors at Ellis Island was a big event, imagine how those whose ancestors celebrated the Declaration of Independence on that awesome day in 1776 must feel. Sometimes I think our newer arrivals fail to recognize or grasp our pride.
On the morning of the 4th, a summer breakfast of fresh melon, pancakes and coffee followed our morning chores that included milking the cows, feeding the chickens and tending the livestock and, time permitting, perhaps, a bit of hoeing in the garden. After breakfast, Mother would fry a chicken – or two, cook some green beans, make a potato salad and prepare iced tea for the lunch that we would enjoy at the park where the carnival would provide fun and frivolity.
Food, drinks and family packed safely into the car, off we went lighthearted and gay. We would arrive at the celebration early afternoon and as we left the car (my brothers and sisters remembered a horse drawn wagon) dad would give my brother and I .25 cents and that was our allotment for entertainment. How we chose to spend our money was up to us, but for sure, it would only accommodate a minimal number of rides on either the ferris wheel, the merry go round or a few exercises of skill in which my brother might choose to invest.
Sometime mid to early evening – Mother and Dad would pause in their visiting with neighbors and friends to summon my brother and I with whatever friends we might ask to join us for our “dinner”. Mother would have prepared a table and sat it with the food that she had prepared for us. Other friends would be invited to join us and others would be similarly sharing their meal at nearby tables and as we ate, the group would visit and share the news that had accumulated in our individual families during the course of the year.
I do not remember any speeches – though that is a big part of what the movies and books about 4th of July celebrations in other areas stress. I remember this event as a general celebration. It was a summer event that stressed happiness, good food, family, friends a time for renewal and appreciation. At 9 o’clock after the sun had sat in the West, the band would play and the fireworks would be displayed and another 4th of July would have been celebrated. Mother and Dad would usually have left for home right after the meal because the cows had to be milked, the pigs fed and the chores completed. My brother and I would be left to come home with a neighbor who had come for the evening celebration as opposed to the day celebration. They were night people. My folks were day people. My brother and I benefitted from both.
Today, too few of our citizens stop to remember the price that was paid by the ancestors of those of us whose life has always belonged to this country. I can remember my dad reminiscing about his grandfather and his grandfather’s brother who fought in the American Revolutionary War. My mother’s grandfather was wounded in the Civil War and even as we celebrated many of the 4ths that I so vividly remember, World War II was in progress. We had family and friends serving on the battlefield across the sea and we were acutely aware of the price of our freedom.
For many immigrants that live among us today, our country is a land of opportunity, wealth and yes, absurd over indulgence. Our freedom is taken for granted and too few of us stop to remember that someone has paid the price for that which we enjoy. We take it all for granted and as my mother used to warn, “WE DO NOT MISS THE WATER UNTIL THE WELL GOES DRY”. Let’s stop and remember and celebrate the 4th for what it is and what it means. It is a celebration of our independence and an opportunity to remember that we must work to preserve our freedom.
That said, my melancholy cries out for a dissertation and thus, I am posting my whimsy here where it can be ignored by millions of people rather than to bore one poor unfortunate person with my old age giddy.
As the 4th of July celebration looms ahead, I remember with great fondness the celebrations of my youth. Our Fourth of July was a celebration on a par with Thanksgiving and Christmas but it was different. The 4th of July was a combination of celebration of independence and renewal. Family, friends and neighbors joined together to celebrate, remember and appreciate the gift of independence that we had been presented by our forefathers. It was a day in which we celebrated that for which our ancestors had so courageously fought and left to us to appreciate. For those who may have thought that the arrival of their ancestors at Ellis Island was a big event, imagine how those whose ancestors celebrated the Declaration of Independence on that awesome day in 1776 must feel. Sometimes I think our newer arrivals fail to recognize or grasp our pride.
On the morning of the 4th, a summer breakfast of fresh melon, pancakes and coffee followed our morning chores that included milking the cows, feeding the chickens and tending the livestock and, time permitting, perhaps, a bit of hoeing in the garden. After breakfast, Mother would fry a chicken – or two, cook some green beans, make a potato salad and prepare iced tea for the lunch that we would enjoy at the park where the carnival would provide fun and frivolity.
Food, drinks and family packed safely into the car, off we went lighthearted and gay. We would arrive at the celebration early afternoon and as we left the car (my brothers and sisters remembered a horse drawn wagon) dad would give my brother and I .25 cents and that was our allotment for entertainment. How we chose to spend our money was up to us, but for sure, it would only accommodate a minimal number of rides on either the ferris wheel, the merry go round or a few exercises of skill in which my brother might choose to invest.
Sometime mid to early evening – Mother and Dad would pause in their visiting with neighbors and friends to summon my brother and I with whatever friends we might ask to join us for our “dinner”. Mother would have prepared a table and sat it with the food that she had prepared for us. Other friends would be invited to join us and others would be similarly sharing their meal at nearby tables and as we ate, the group would visit and share the news that had accumulated in our individual families during the course of the year.
I do not remember any speeches – though that is a big part of what the movies and books about 4th of July celebrations in other areas stress. I remember this event as a general celebration. It was a summer event that stressed happiness, good food, family, friends a time for renewal and appreciation. At 9 o’clock after the sun had sat in the West, the band would play and the fireworks would be displayed and another 4th of July would have been celebrated. Mother and Dad would usually have left for home right after the meal because the cows had to be milked, the pigs fed and the chores completed. My brother and I would be left to come home with a neighbor who had come for the evening celebration as opposed to the day celebration. They were night people. My folks were day people. My brother and I benefitted from both.
Today, too few of our citizens stop to remember the price that was paid by the ancestors of those of us whose life has always belonged to this country. I can remember my dad reminiscing about his grandfather and his grandfather’s brother who fought in the American Revolutionary War. My mother’s grandfather was wounded in the Civil War and even as we celebrated many of the 4ths that I so vividly remember, World War II was in progress. We had family and friends serving on the battlefield across the sea and we were acutely aware of the price of our freedom.
For many immigrants that live among us today, our country is a land of opportunity, wealth and yes, absurd over indulgence. Our freedom is taken for granted and too few of us stop to remember that someone has paid the price for that which we enjoy. We take it all for granted and as my mother used to warn, “WE DO NOT MISS THE WATER UNTIL THE WELL GOES DRY”. Let’s stop and remember and celebrate the 4th for what it is and what it means. It is a celebration of our independence and an opportunity to remember that we must work to preserve our freedom.
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