The 4th of July

Let me just say that I like the 4th of July as much as the next small-town girl. As a child, Independence Day was one of my favorite holidays. It meant sparklers, watermelon, and family picnics in the back yard that lasted all day long. If we were lucky, each of us children were given a couple boxes of poppers to snap down on the sidewalk, and dad would light little black pellets that turned into snakes and left stains on the concrete for what seems like the rest of the summer. Part of me wonders if some are still there. On really good years day would fade into night and the picnic would become a bonfire, with family sticking around to roast hot dogs and make s'mores. Jars of lightening bugs were collected, some sacrificed for the glowing marks of victory we smudged on our hands, foreheads.

Now, as the 4th day in July comes like any other, with my traditions living on the other side of this nation we are celebrating, I am beginning to question the patriotic holiday. It's not that I am not grateful to be a citizen of this beautiful country. I truly am blessed to be able to call it home. I am so thankful that I live in a country where women are free to get an education, and that I can feel safe in my own home. On the morning of September 11, 2001, as I sat in my Spanish class watching the coverage of the terrorist attacks on our country, I immediately started crying. My heart broke as I saw the devastation, but I do not think that my reaction was typical. In response to the fear that now weighed down the air (a true 'climate change' to be sure) I thought, "How lucky we are. How lucky that this catastrophe is such a surprise, so unexpected. We are so blessed to live in a place where this does not happen every day." And that's when the tears started. Not for us, but for our sisters and brothers living in Israel and Palestine who are faced with this kind of fear every day while buying groceries, riding the bus, attending school.
So, yes, I am lucky to be able to call myself an American.

But now, without my traditions, my family, the things that make this holiday meaningful, celebrating the 4th seems strangely discomforting. I am having a difficult time swallowing the whole thing. What is it, exactly, that we are celebrating? Sure, I know, there's the whole "independence" thing (ha), but isn't the 4th really a celebration of the American way of life? And how do we show the world what we're all about? We spend $900 million on entertainment that literally burns into smithereens before our very eyes! Isn't that a bit telling of the values that our nation upholds?

Sigh.

Something needs to change.