After that, the magic ended. In later years, the day brought sadness or indifference, and now, sitting here on July 4, 2016, I wonder what to make of Independence Day. Skimming through my Facebook feed, I picture this holiday as a stressed Statue of Liberty trying to move through an excited crowd. People are grabbing at her sleeves, insisting that the day reminds us how much the promise of America has failed, or how it never was that hot to begin with, or how we've failed to honor those who have served, or how we should be proud of the freedoms we have. Polarizing thoughts in a very polarized country. Cautionary notes too: this is, after all, a noisy and stressful day for animals. Some friends, mercifully, simply wish me a happy 4th of July. I hope to join some of them later in a non-ideological viewing of fireworks.
By the mid-1960s, as I entered early adulthood, my image of this celebration of national independence had darkened. The Vietnam War, which I opposed, made any patriotic display distasteful to me. Living in various apartments in Chicago, I had no backyard or interest in barbecue or sparklers. Less time for TV or family visits as well.
By age 30, the day acquired a painful meaning: my father died suddenly on July 4, 1977. En route from Denver to Chicago that day, I didn't know the news until later, watching fireworks for the last time as a young woman with two living parents. That day was also my half-sister's birthday, the day she received such a terrible present. Can any anniversary of a painful event ever escape such an association?
Years passed, I acquired animal companions along the way, and the celebrations of the 4th were a source of anxiety for them. It was usually hot, and I still had no interest in patriotic displays. Some years I enjoyed having a day off work, I'll admit, though not always. It was summer vacation for those working or studying in the school system.
In 1990, I escaped the 4th of July by moving to Japan. Early July is still part of the school year in Japanese universities, and the 4th came and went as I prepared for final exams and the following summer vacation. Japan has only one national holiday in July, "umi no hi" (Sea Day), a day set aside for enjoying vacation time, preferably at a beach. I was usually on my way back to the US by the time it arrived.
Since returning in 2010, I've observed or not observed the holiday in various ways. One year I cooled off while watching rather impressive fireworks off Navy Pier in Chicago. Last year I was at my cabin, venturing out for a couple of hours for Guffey Heritage Day. I enjoyed the library's book and bake sale, but had to pass on the chicken wing cook-off. Guffey used to have a "chicken fly" contest, in which children could see whose chicken could fly the farthest, an event the chickens never seemed to mind. (Only hot dogs were served in those days).... I digress.
If July 4th has to have a meaning, I vote for a national "Interdependence" day, one in which we try to heal the polarization and acknowledge all of the ways we are bound to each other and to the developing world. Acting locally, thinking globally--my favorite ideological phrase these days. We could fly the Earth flag, reminding ourselves where our true allegiance lies. (Image from NASA)
This morning I started the day with music. The GALA chorus convention is in downtown Denver, and thousands of singers with LBGT choruses all over the country have come to sing together. They have a live broadcast stream, which began today at 9 a.m. The Boston Gay Men's Chorus performed beautifully in a program which included a commissioned work celebrating peace and interconnectedness. More concerts will be broadcast daily through July 6, and you can access them free. Click here.
For the rest of the day, I'll let my mental image of the Statue of Liberty free herself from the crowd, letting herself and the beleaguered country she represents have a day off, just to chill and look up at the sky.
thank you for a lovely, thoughtful piece. Namaste...
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading. Namaste back.
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