Do you remember the anticipation fluttering deep in your stomach as you felt the tugging on your roller coaster car as it neared the peak of the first and highest 'mountain'---and many people (not me) would raise their arms in anticipation...I think the 4th of July feels like that moment. It is the exciting peak of summer. The rest of the season is an enjoyable ride but the excitement lessens and the shrieks of delight turn to softer laughter and then to giggles as each curve takes us closer to feeling the pull of the brakes.
When I was a kid the 4th of July meant a barbecue, homemade ice-cream--that was hand cranked and I got to add salt to the bucket and was rewarded with getting to lick the paddle-stirrer-thing, lighting 'snakes' on the patio (they made lasting marks), doing cartwheels on the lawn, writing my name in the night air with sparklers, and watching Lagoon's fireworks from our kitchen window. (Which is kind of like watching the neighbor's television through their window from their front sidewalk---my mom couldn't get around well and my family never liked anything that involved crowds)
My first 4th of July away from home my room mate and I went to see the fireworks at Liberty Park. Unfortunately I remember the crowds more than the fireworks. My first memorable experience watching fireworks was when my husband took me to see his hometown's display at the middle school he had attended. We were right under the fireworks. They were huge and bright and noisy. They were like colored fountains spraying brilliant bursts of light---or like giant glowing dandelions gone to seed blown by the wind and twirling until they disappeared---they were amazing (with my hand in my husband's hand I didn't worry too much about our blanket catching on fire) and they felt so close that I imagined burning my fingers if I reached up too high---a much different view than perched on the edge of the kitchen sink finding just the right spot to look between two shadowy trees and wait for small bursts of light to appear.
After having children the 4th of July still included barbecues but store bought ice-cream and popcicles and Otter pops became more popular than homemade ice-cream. (these cold treats brought pleasure on hot days but they didn't carry with them the same ceremony of making homemade ice-cream) The 4th of July with children meant grabbing strollers and blankets and heading down to find a good spot to watch our city parade where we would wave small flags, wave to the pretty girls on the floats, and try to catch candy before it hit us---watching our children run around the yard with sparklers or throw snaps on the ground, and eating licorice or skittles while oohing and ahhing over fireworks.
I find that my memories of the 4th of July are more about the festivities-more about the celebration- than about the reason for the celebrating. But there have been and continue to be moments when I feel touched by patriotism---love for my country, moments when I feel gratitude for more freedoms than I realize most of the time, and moments when I feel reverence for the precious blood spilled defending those freedoms. These moments are far more rare than they should be but when they come they stir my heart with deep emotion and illuminate my mind with sharp awareness.
A very small amount of understanding of sacrifice for freedom came to me as a very young child when I saw my dad leave on a train on the first leg of his journey to Korea. Great clouds of steam were coming from the train and I screamed and sobbed because I thought my daddy was burning up. I gained greater appreciation for his sacrifice years later as I read his cards home from Korea. In them he spoke of what they would be doing on base to celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas and how much he wished he could be home to celebrate with his family. In the final years of my father's life when he lived with us, he told me that because of his experiences in the Navy and the Army he could never see the American flag without getting a lump in his throat. My dad was not an emotional man.
I remember feeling an inkling of what I thought patriotism to be---not on the 4th of July but during the Christmas holidays when I would watch Bob Hope's specials when he entertained the troops. Although I was young I would look at the youthful smiling faces of the soldiers and I would experience a mixture of feelings. For a few moments brave young men would whistle at beautiful girl performers and laugh at Bob's jokes. They would have a break from pain and suffering and death, and for a few moments they would be just regular guys enjoying life. Watching them would give me a lump in my throat that I couldn't fully understand.
Last night we watched a couple of 4th of July specials on television. One was from our nation's capital and featured several entertainers including a boy from a relatively small city in our own state. There were patriotic musical numbers and fireworks and young soldiers who had been battered, broken, and maimed in our current war. Watching them smile in the face of adversity during a moment of peace reminded me of all those fresh young faces on the Bob Hope specials--only these faces were the 'after' shots... The other special featured Steve Young and a few LDS musical performers. We tuned in shortly before a young man spoke about his harrowing experience of being ambushed in Afghanistan. He had been blinded and had lost several good friends in the attack. Later in the program tribute was paid to two young local boys who had attended the same high school and who had both served and died in Afghanistan. Flags were presented to their mothers. Each mother held the flag to her heart with a look that spoke of yearning to hold her son instead. I felt like I was intruding...I guess it is needful to see more than parades and fireworks in order to truly celebrate the 4th of July. We need reminders of the cost of freedom--we also need to march and sing and wave flags and make homemade ice-cream...
Perhaps the time my heart was stretched to the fullest with patriotism was at my father's funeral. We had military rites done for him. To watch the exactness, the respect, the reverence, and dedication with which those young servicemen folded the flag left me in a state of humble awe. I can't begin to describe my feelings as the flag was handed to me and my sister. I felt my dad there with us and I like to think at that moment that he had gained a greater understanding of freedom. My dad had his mother lie about his age and sign for him so that he could join the navy at 16 or 17. He signed up for a dangerous mission as a gunner on a Merchant Marine ship. He said at the time he felt that no one cared about him and that it wouldn't matter if he came back or not. I think serving his country helped my dad have a greater appreciation for what he risked his life to defend---a relationship with God, freedom to make something of his life, and a family to love. My father spent all of the rest of his civilian life doing all he could to provide for his family and to give them happiness.
On Saturday night as we watched fireworks I looked at my granddaughter snug in her mother's lap excited about 'Christmas fireworks' and at my grandson safe in his daddy's arms captivated by the bright lights in the sky and I was immensely thankful that our family was watching a celebration and not hiding from enemy soldiers---that the loud sounds were coming from fireworks and not bombs or gunfire---that we would go home to safe and comfortable homes. How blessed we are to live in a promised land, a land prepared by God, a land of freedom---but we are the stewards of this land--we need to care for it and accept our responsibility for keeping it great. Most of us know a lot about celebrating and little about suffering. We need to work at remembering. I pray that my children and grandchildren will grow up in a free country and that they will be grateful---grateful enough to stand up for what they believe---to do their part in keeping our country free.
The holiday weekend is winding down to the last few sparks of the sparkler but we need to keep our flags flying and our hands over our hearts. Our God, our religion, our families, our rights are not separate causes--they are a firm foundation on which to build a happy life and a prosperous nation. God Bless America! Enjoy the rest of the roller coaster ride---the summer.
