julierichmond

I’ve never been much for fireworks, the Boston Pops on the esplanade, or big statements about patriotism and sacrifice for country.

My dad served; he never spoke about his time and when he did, it was shrouded in mystery and what seemed like tall tales about being dropped in Japan after World War II.

My brother in law served; many of the students are work with are veterans- I always end our conversations with “thank you for your service.” The fact that they are often surprised by my acknowledgement of their sacrifice makes me sad. We need to acknowledge our veterans, with our than appreciation, but health care and support post service.

Because of people before me, I’ve had the luxury of growing up and living in these United States. I know that I will never truly comprehend how fortunate I am to have been born here, to a family with money, white. There is so much I take for granted because I don’t know anything else.

I try to remember everyday all the easy gifts that came to me from birth; I do my best to be mindful that I won a lottery.

In the course of my life, I’ve also had a million moments where I have felt my heart swell with pride at what it means to be an American.

I’ve also experienced a half a million moments where my heart almost burst while I sat, in a comfortable chair, in a small town in New England, and celebrated visions of where our country was headed.

And now, I don’t know what to say, but this glorious nation of ours is failing. Maybe someone will fix things, or maybe we won’t get there in time.

I’ve never been one for parades or blind loyalty but I’ve always had faith, because I don’t know how to wake up in the morning without it.

I’ve been lazy, maybe. Spoiled for sure. There’s so many words- complacent, entitled, blind, hopeful, foolish….

So tonight, I won’t be watching the fireworks. To be honest, I only watched them when the kids were small. And we didn’t talk about the meaning of American’s independence, just when they were going the show was gong to start, and whether the display overhead was the finale.

But, I remember this, and I might be wrong, when I’d hear the music to “this land is your land, this land is my land”- I felt part of a land that was so much bigger than the space between “California and the New York Islands.”

Maybe I heard the song on the fourth of July. Or maybe it was a Springsteen concert, or a baseball game.

But I remember how proud I was to live in the country Arlo Guthrie wrote about.

And now, can we play that song? Can I sing along without crying?

I can not. Not tonight. Or next week.

But I find comfort and sanity knowing I am not alone.

July 4th has traditionally been a celebration of our country’s independence.

This year, we are talking about Diddy, the Big, Disgraceful Bill, holiday traffic, Alligator Alcatraz, and the weather.

But there is tomorrow.

“This land was made for you and me.”

We definitely have work to do, you and me.

Happy Fourth.