Wave That Flag High And Dry!

The 4th of July has come and gone but my nostalgia for hot and sticky, acrid smoke filled American summer nights has not passed. This was the first Independence Day not in the US of A.

I have never considered myself all that patriotic. The sight of the American flag does do anything for me really. I don't get a lump in throat, get teary-eyed or reflect on the men and women who gave their lives to support it. It's just a flag to me. That's it. The Star Spangled Banner or God Bless America don't do much for me. One reminds me of baseball games and the other pictures of Kate Smith in old Time-Life books I used to look at as a kid.
If I feel any sort of nationalism at all its in regards to the American people. I know that my forebearers came from Scotland, Wales, Germany and Poland. I also don't give a damn. While I find Scotland and Wales to be incredibly beautiful, I didn't feel any kind of "home coming" when I arrived. They were just especially gorgeous spots on the planet. I trace my heritage back to America. That's where I was raised and its people is who I call my own. I always kind of shook my head at the various ethnic parades etc. that go on year round. They are usually fun but I feel they are kind of counter productive. What should be celebrated is our unity as an American people - "One People United". That said,I do enjoy the debates of diversity versus integration that is a hallmark of the American experience and should continue to be so throughout its history. It's that tension between these two pulls that keep the country vibrant and alive.

So, what was I nostalgic about yesterday? It sure wasn't here that awful "Proud to be an American" song that gets played to death at local firework displays and parades every 4th. Nor was it nationalistic speeches by politicians on TV. What I missed was sitting in a hot, sweaty mass of my fellow Americans looking skyward as fireworks explode and fill even the most cynical of us with childlike wonder. I missed cooking out with friends and family leading up to a backyard firework display. I miss dopey parades with little girls in their gymnastic uniforms doing cartwheels down the street and firemen tossing handfuls of candy to the screaming children lined up along the curbs.

I missed baseball, over cooked (veggie) burgers off the grill, playing horseshoes, children writing their names in the air with sparklers, marshmallows turned into torches, aluminum kegs of beer, weird salads and casseroles laid out at parties,the recognition that inspite of all of us being able to claim a different ethnic heritage that we are indeed one people.

I got none of that this 4th of July. All we had over here were memories. It was a nice night so we slept with the bedroom window opened. Sometime in the very early morning hours of the 5th of July, I was stirred from my sleep by what I could swear was the faintest hint of the acrid, sulfurous smell of fireworks. It smelt like my American dreams.