Star Spangled Memories

As our nation prepares for the 250th anniversary of its founding, I am reminded of the simple ways we observed this holiday in summer’s past. School was out, dads were home from work, and children filled my New York City street.

Few things were more exciting for us youngsters than celebrating the 4th of July. We sat on our front porches, twirling sparklers and eating penny candy. Neighborhood boys organized street games like red light, green light and running bases. Seasoned chicken cooked slowly on rotisserie grills, and families gathered for the backyard cookout. At twilight we chased down lightning bugs and licked the sprinkles off our red, white, and blue Good Humor ice cream cones. Later, the adults set out lawn chairs, keeping a safe distance from the street, where firework displays were set off by dads and sons. Worried moms called out, “Be careful you don’t blow your fingers off.”

Some years we gathered on the 4th with extended family at Hempstead Lake State Park. It was always eventful; our little cousin slipping off the carousel ride, a tipsy uncle tumbling from the rowboat into the lake, and at the annual softball game, two players limping to the first aid station after their full speed collision at 2nd base. These Fourth of July family reunions provided “remember when” laughs for many years.

My parents were big proponents of educational summer vacations. While my friends were dancing the hokey pokey and frolicking in the Poconos, my family and I traipsed across Revolutionary War battlefields and posed for pictures atop colonial artillery and cannons. We inspected Fort Ticonderoga and Niagara, important fortresses during the war. We stood on Bunker Hill where General Prescott commanded his men “to not shoot until they saw the whites of their eyes,” and we toured the areas in Lexington and Concord where the Minutemen won decisive battles against the British. I still have the freedom pin my mom bought me when visiting The Liberty Bell. Later, we stood reverently behind velvet ropes in the Pennsylvania State House to view the room where the Declaration of Independence was signed.

Listening to my sister and me whine and complain through every patriotic outing must have caused my parents serious battle fatigue. But they were not deterred. For most of my adolescent years, if there was a historic site within a two-day drive from our home, my parents were determined for us to visit.  Looking back, these moments formed my understanding of our nation’s beginnings. If only I could go back in time and thank them for these experiences and for putting up with me.

I worked at Saks Fifth Avenue across from Rockefeller Center when preparations for Op Sail 76 took place, an event commemorating the nation’s bicentennial. The maritime spectacle included tall ships from around the world sailing into the New York Harbor. Millions watched from the piers of New York City, in awe of the magnificent sailing vessels as they floated down our waterways. With Stars and Stripes Forever playing, fireworks blazed across the evening sky against the backdrop of the Manhattan skyline. It was an unforgettable moment of national pride and great majesty.

The Fourth of July serves as a cultural touchstone, a reminder of who we are together, as a nation, no matter where we come from, or when we arrived.  E Pluribus Unum, translated from Latin, out of many, one is our national motto. Initially, representing the thirteen original colonies joined together as one nation, it now symbolizes our country as a people from different cultures uniting to celebrate as one, the founding principles as written in the Declaration of Independence:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. (The Declaration of Independence, 1776, Paragraph 2)

Whatever understanding and appreciation I have of our nation’s founding, I owe to my childhood celebrations, our summer vacations, and a bit of Hollywood. For some reason, at the end of the day, I recall my dad, my sister, and me watching Jimmy Cagney singing and dancing to Yankee Doodle Dandy. We sang along, marching side by side, our imaginary fife and drum in hand.

 I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy,

A Yankee Doodle do or die,

a real live nephew of my Uncle Sam,

born on the Fourth of July.” (Cohen, George M. The Yankee Doodle Dandy Boy, F. .A. Mills, 1904)

As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of our founding, what are your special memories of July 4th? Do you have experiences that helped you to make meaning of the experiment known as The United States of America?

Bit by bit, that’s all she wrote…