Democracy's Birthday Deserves All the Hoopla

The Fourth of July is my favorite holiday, after Christmas and Thanksgiving. It’s always such a fun day.
Like many Americans, I have Norman Rockwell-esque memories of the Fourths of my childhood. When I was young, my dad’s sister, Aunt Liz, had the Fourth of July party in her back yard. It was always a big deal with lots of people.
The yard was decorated with colorful Japanese lanterns, tables were set up all over the lawn, and in the garage was the bar where the adults clustered.
That spot never interested me. My favorite spot was in the basement because it had an old-fashioned (even then) soft drink cooler, filled to overflowing with bottles of Coca-Cola. They were for all my brothers, sisters and cousins to drink, and we could have as much as we wanted.
On the day of the party, my mother would get all of us (I am one of eight children) festively outfitted by dressing us in matching red, white and blue clothes. We all had to look perfect so the relatives would make the appropriate comments on how cute we were.
We always had corn on the cob. Back in the old days – the early 1950’s – it was a big treat to have corn so early in the summer. Every year, my grandfather arranged to have it sent in from Texas.
Of course, I didn’t know that, I just enjoyed eating the corn after my dad had cooked it in the husks over an open fire.
One year, my sister Bonnie, who was a big corn eater, lost two baby teeth while she was eating an ear. She collected 50-cent pieces from the aunts and uncles, which really made me mad.
Most of my other memories of these parties come from the home movies my dad took. One time he told my grandma that he wanted to get some footage of her and my grandpa with all the grand-children. She thought he was going to take a picture, so she tried to get everyone to stand still. The result is a funny scene with Grandma Nellie and Grandpa John posing for the camera and 25 to 30 grandchildren, drinking our bottles of pop, running all around them.
For the last several years, we have celebrated our nation’s independence with family and friends at home. The day begins with a flag ceremony and a neighborhood parade and then there’s badminton, Frisbee throwing, dancing, card playing, cooking out, eating and more eating. It is usually the kind of day that goes on and on until everyone is exhausted, stuffed and dirty.
We never need to go anywhere to watch a professional fireworks display because John, Patrick and my brother-in-law, Mike, get carried away with attempts to noisily illuminate our front yard.
My Fourth of July celebrations of 30-plus years ago as a child in suburban Chicago and the ones I now enjoy in our back yard in Omaha have on important detail in common. They have been fun.
And if we would all pause this Independence Day over a slice of watermelon, everyone would certainly agree that this much hoopla is appropriate to celebrate the formation of a democracy more then 200 years ago that in 1986 is still steadfast in its belief that people should forever enjoy freedom, opportunity and hope for the future.
July 2, 1986