Independence Day

"I believe that it will be celebrated
by succeeding generations as the
great anniversary festival... it ought
to be celebrated by pomp and parade,
with shows, games, sports, guns, bells,
bonfires and illuminations from one
end of this continent to the other..."
– John Adams

“Grilling outdoors is one of the highest
honors we can bestow on a guest.”
- Michael Pollan, The Omnivore's
Dilemma: A Natural History of Four
Meals


Our country’s declaration of
independence from Britain, the beginning
of the labor that ultimately birthed
the great United States of America,
is a heavy subject. Trying to write
about it with any poetry at all is like
trying to paint a sunset, something so
frequently and badly done by unskilled
artists that I shrink from the idea. I am,
in the words of Wayne Campbell, not
worthy.

So I won’t do it.

Yesterday, Tim and his kids joined
Cameryn and me and we built a fire,
talked about history, roasted hot dogs
and marshmallows and played charades
until it was time to watch fireworks.
There was plenty of laughter, just a
little bit of complaining, and a couple
of the kids got in trouble for playing
with the fire. We drove to my office
in Deep Deuce and joined some friends
from work to drink beer and champagne
and watch the lights in the sky.

It was very American.