It would be rude of me to not bestow good wishes to those who are celebrating this American holiday. Living out of the country, it is curious to see how the rest of the world keeps going on while the party happens in the states. In fact, it’s more like waiting in line for a really cool concert. Everything outside is kinda lame and at a snails pace while the fun stuff is going on inside.
That’s not to say that things in Vancouver is or has been lame. Canada Day[wiki] has its excellent merits. Spending the day on the beach and following it up with dinner on a patio that overlooks English Bay with a pitcher of mojitos? Muy buen.
Being an American and not being in America can be hard on days like this. I have a wealth of memories of times past. In fact, we watched Field of Dreams last night for my unknown numberth of times, and it was nearly three years ago that my family spent the day there, playing catch, taking turns at bat, and wandering the corn fields. Makes you miss those times a lot.
When I think about being American, it’s those times that make me appreciate my roots. I could care very little about being called a nationalist for flying my flag, and you can stick it for calling me an ex-patriot. I know exactly what I am and where I have come from, and politics and foreign policy means little to me on a day like this. It’s also why I am not afraid to hide from the fact of where I grew up. The Midwest is my home. Born and raised, and there is nothing you can do to change that.
Riding the little league all-stars float, playing in the high school marching band, the tractor after tractor in the parade, the piles of treats left behind by the horses, stuffing yourself with meats from the grill, picking the corn out from between your teeth, and the flinching concussions from those fireworks that are shot into the sky with all the pretty ones only to have a little blip of a flash, followed by a rattling boom.
Happy Fourth of July!