Sunday, July 4, 2010
Popsicles For Breakfast
Sunday's kept a good attitude I think - that is - about having to share its glory with the pomp of Independence Day. Yes, as we lick popsicles for breakfast and decorate our bikes and bodies with red, white and blue, we show off a bit. During these hours we celebrate our country's rebirth with mealy hot dogs and tepid beer, rockets and ramparts. I looked up "ramparts" in the dictionary (just to confirm my inept knowing about all things warlike.)
In a few hours, when the sun moves aside to share its pastel sky, the dusk master will pull down the afternoon curtains, just in time to announce the annual flag waving show. Town bands of all sizes and sounds take up their instruments and we sing GOD BLESS AMERICA and THE STARS SPANGLED BANNER. Once my year old granddaughter sang along with her baby language just because, because that's what she knew and she followed us in our song. She follows us still as we hang our flags, don our starry t-shirts.
At day's end, we find on center stage in our lives and backyards, a yearly watch party with feisty fireworks and loud booms that send toddlers to their mom's laps. Those booms and screams remind us we are far more blessed than we know. OOOOOOh, ahhhhhhhhh, OOOOO's sweep across the land of the free, the homes of the brave.
We Americans must celebrate, it's in our DNA. . So, we party because it is in our privilege, our responsibility to hold a hand and look up, up to those brave souls who lived and died, prayed and proved that risk and ramparts worked then and, well, work still.
I can't help but wonder if our wise, Godly forefathers would grieve at the pugnacious political scene of today. Regardless, my America reigns. Indeed, God bless America!
A
In a few hours, when the sun moves aside to share its pastel sky, the dusk master will pull down the afternoon curtains, just in time to announce the annual flag waving show. Town bands of all sizes and sounds take up their instruments and we sing GOD BLESS AMERICA and THE STARS SPANGLED BANNER. Once my year old granddaughter sang along with her baby language just because, because that's what she knew and she followed us in our song. She follows us still as we hang our flags, don our starry t-shirts.
At day's end, we find on center stage in our lives and backyards, a yearly watch party with feisty fireworks and loud booms that send toddlers to their mom's laps. Those booms and screams remind us we are far more blessed than we know. OOOOOOh, ahhhhhhhhh, OOOOO's sweep across the land of the free, the homes of the brave.
We Americans must celebrate, it's in our DNA. . So, we party because it is in our privilege, our responsibility to hold a hand and look up, up to those brave souls who lived and died, prayed and proved that risk and ramparts worked then and, well, work still.
I can't help but wonder if our wise, Godly forefathers would grieve at the pugnacious political scene of today. Regardless, my America reigns. Indeed, God bless America!
A
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