No matter how much we currently enjoy the 4th of July with family and friends, I continue to miss fireworks, every year—at our age, it’s too hot to be outside in the valley. I especially feel nostalgic for those years, up north at our cabin, spent watching children, who’d felt so in awe of the sky bursting with ‘excitement’ that their innocent faces actually beamed in the afterglow of the technicolored finale which would end with America The Beautiful ringing in our ears while George Washington’s profile, lighting the night’s sky was immediately followed by The American Flag, causing every heart of all ages to pump with a common sense of national pride.
Up at the cabin (at the edge of a pine treed forrest) when our sons were young, The Fire Dept. had offered an awesome artful array of fireworks enhanced with patriotic music blasting from gigantic speakers that stirred our love of country, deeply. And many hundreds of families, sitting on blankets spread across the expanse of the golf course would smile at one another while hundreds of children, flicking on flashlights, mimicked fireflies dancing through the air, from here to there and back, as everyone eagerly awaited the beginning of the evening festivities under the starlit sky (being that countless stars actually twinkled above us, one summer after another, as though in celebration of the 4th with my parents and dear friends, whom we’d chosen to stay with us while we all enjoyed a weekend of crisp clear mountain air.
I miss the untainted nature of those patriotic celebrations enjoyed, year after year, including the aroma of traditional BBQ curling through the air, arousing appetites for hot dogs with all the trimmings before we’d head downhill on dirt roads to claim our territory on the golf course in wait of a thrilling ending to a weekend with loved ones, filled with fun colored in RED WHITE AND BLUE.
Sadly, in recent years, attitude about ‘my country tis of thee’ has greatly changed for the worse—for sound reason—and raging fires have thrown cold water over firework displays, which had once provided countless families with awesome patriotic memories of years past. My memories of celebrating Independence Day (beginning in 1978) at our cabin with family and friends in tow, remain vivid, not just in my mind but within my heart for sound reason.
Every 4th of July, I wish we could relive those traditional family times, when all of us were young and we, as well as our mountain getaway, were decked out in red white and blue, because love of country felt as natural as grilling hot dogs in the great outdoors followed by scooping vanilla ice cream atop apple pie topped off with roasting marshmallows while lighting the last of our sparklers on the wooden deck before tucking the kids into sleeping bags, where several small fry had eagerly awaited bedtime stories about ‘made-up’ super heros, who’d emerged from within Will’s imagination, such as Toilet paper Man or R2-poopoo, Chuy-caca and C3Pee-on-me … each one setting off gales of children’s laughter, and just before our tykes were so fully spent that they’d be curled up, fast asleep, Will would sneak in a commercial inclusive of the theme song from Kellogg’s Corn Flakes with all of the kids chiming in, and once our traditional evening chinanigans came to an end, a sense of deeply blessed weariness saw the adults, inclusive of my parents, yawning while hugging each other before abbreviated night time routines had readied each of us for a sound night’s sleep.
Upon today’s reflections, perhaps that’s why my processor could not fall asleep until 3am. Our unique histories certainly arouse differences in emotional reactions that arise unbidden from subconscious memories, today.
I could write a lot more about small town celebrations with homemade floats enjoyed at our cabin, over the past 43 years, but I’ll let these pictures do the talking😊
🙋🏻♀️💖🇺🇸🔆USA
Ravi, wearing purple, is in the float with the guitars🥰
Tony and Ray have purple tongues🥰
Those were the days, my friend
Those were the days when
Thoughts of anyone challenging
Our Democratic way of life
From within our borders
Seemed so unlikely
As to be thought ridiculous
And not one of these photos
Goes back more than six years … 🇺🇸
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