Independence Day Memories:
We don’t celebrate July 4th like we did when I was a kid. When I was growing up every holiday was celebrated at my house. Mom made tuna macaroni salad, potato salad, green Jell-O salad, and lemonade. Dad cooked hamburgers and hot dogs on the charcoal grill. We had watermelon for dessert, and after perhaps a game of kickball or tag we’d gather back around the still hot coals and toast marshmallows on sticks we found and Dad whittled to a point with his pocket knife that he always carried. After consuming those lovely toasted marshmallows my parents got out the sparklers. This was my favorite part! I just loved running around with a sparkler in each hand drawing designs and writing letters in the air until they burned out. Sometimes we’d listen to patriotic music on the tape player, I just love all those John Philip Sousa marches—now that’s my idea of patriotic music! We’d hear fireworks in the distance, but I don’t remember going to any. Now, sadly, it’s pretty much just another day at our house for me. Bruce goes to march in a parade in another town in the morning, Hillary needs the same care she always needs, if Anna’s not working she’s out with friends or catching up on things she needs to do. We grill some hamburgers, I make potato salad, and after Hillary goes to bed we watch fireworks on the TV. It’s still nice, but sometimes I long for those simple celebrations of my childhood.