Independence Day

Yesterday was the 4th of July. Ironically, a holiday I cared not much about growing up. I grew up in a teeny little town. Not a teeny little charming town with a lot of character and a solid foundation of town spirit, just a teeny little town on the outskirts of nowhere with little character and little spirit.

We had a 5-minute parade. If the drought wasn't the worst drought on record, the city shot off fireworks at the baseball field, but it wasn't something anyone ever planned their lives around. We never went. We typically spent the holiday in the even smaller town in which my grandparents lived in - they had a lot of town spirit, a little more character and their 4th of July celebration FAR exceeded ours.

When I moved to the East Coast, several holidays took on more 'festive' meaning for me, including the 4th of July. It was a holiday about friends, family, fireworks, freedom ... all the things I'd read about, but never really seen. The picture-perfect celebrations with oversized monuments sillohetted against a specacular fireworks display.

I realized this morning, driving into work, that living in the middle of the most politically powerful metropolitan area in the nation, the notion of Independence Day had changed for me. That the representation of "America" is different there.

In DC, independence, freedom, America, is all about Pomp & Circumstance: tailored dark suits, white shirts, red or blue ties (or occassionally, the radically striped one), McMansions and Lincoln Town Cars, politics, hot-winded speeches, important people, press briefings, security screenings, and picturesque celebrations. One of my favorite images of patriotic holidays in DC is the rows upon rows of miniature American Flags placed at each bright white headstone at Arlington National Cemetery. It is the quintessential illustration of America for me, even now.

I spent this holiday eating cold cuts, veggie and fruit platters and potato salad at my aunt's house. It is the first 4th of July I have spent with any family in 9 years. I realized, as we dragged our blankets and lawn chairs across the street to watch the fireworks at the stadium just down from her house, that independence, freedom, America is something different in the American Frontier.

It isn't about Pomp & Circumstance as much is it is about Opportunity. It still includes fireworks and parades, but it lacks the polished, preening nature of a DC patriotic celebration. Gone are the suits, ties, picturesque photos of monuments, perfectly synchronized firworks and patriotic music, and flags placed "just so." Instead, it is replaced with the casual relaxation of summer, the heartfelt stirrings of ordinary people. Food, family, fireworks, face painting, sparklers, the promise that each year will be better. This year's image of patriotism struck me on my drive in, as I passed a huge irrigation sprinkler system in a field, upon which was perched an American flag. Some farmer, who undoubtedly couldn't care less about Washington, wishing the world Happy Independence Day. This year, somehow, the holiday had more meaning, even with fewer overt references to patriotism, war, sacrifice and freedom. This year was about opportunity - a better life, being with family, building a foundation.

I realized then, that perhaps a little of the polished East Coast persona I had tried so hard to cultivate, quite possibly was a veneer; that maybe, I had never left behind as much of the small-town, red-dirt kid that I'd thought. Although I'll never go so far as to say my hometown throws a great Independence Day party. There's not that much red dirt still stuck in my soul.