The Journey Inward

Growing up, the 4th of July was my favorite holiday, unlike most kids who favored Christmas. For me, the 4th was all about adventure, excitement and hubbub, with my house at the center of it.

We were ideally situated (in my mind, anyway) just beyond the launching site for the fireworks. From our backyard, the adults would set up their folding chairs or use our array of mismatched chairs dragged from the porch and storage to gaze up at the spectacular. And for a small town, we did fireworks well! As a child I watched my older siblings sit on our rooftops with their friends and anxiously awaited the day I could do the same with mine.

But for me, the excitement began much earlier. As a quiet observer of the world, I loved to set off mid morning to survey the fairgrounds behind my house. I would take many walks throughout the day to see how the set up was going, who was involved, how the spectator area was taking shape, who was coming early to save seats and what food and drinks were being offered. I did this stealthily, not wanting to interact with any of these people, but to watch them from a distance. I often brought my dog along, knowing that when night fell, it would be her least favorite day of the year.

As I got older, I looked forward to seeing friends and acquaintances on these walks, and older still, we traveled as a group. Sometimes others joined our pack and after enjoying my family BBQ, we’d head up to the back porch roof by way of my brothers’ bedroom window, which was also our tanning spot (Yup! Baby oil and some hard core friends put tin foil behind their heads to attract even more sun!).

The next morning, I’d go out looking for all the remnants of the 4th. I was fascinated by what the fireworks shed and dropped and how far. It was the complete 24 hour, long lasting holiday for me! The food was great, the people interesting, the fanfare fantastic!

My parents loved the holiday and having friends and neighbors over. I liked helping with the prep that day, usually shucking the corn. Two very distinct memories are the time my dog got so scared she ran away and we didn’t find her until the next day, filthy and frightened. My dad and I walked the streets while my mom drove. Another 4th, police arrived at my front door asking to see my dad. After many minutes, I reported back that I couldn’t find him. They asked for my mom and I went off in search again. I finally found her and she came to the door only to discover that my brother had been involved in an accident and had been rushed to the hospital. We were leaving the next day for a family reunion in Indiana, which did not happen because he had fractured his skull and would be in hospital, then home and healing for many weeks.

When I became a mom, I brought my girls to my parents’ house each July. They, too, marveled at the way Grandma’s yard transformed into a spectacular display by night. By this time, the roof was not as sturdy, and the trees had gotten so tall that we would often walk over to the fairgrounds and sit with the other skygazers.

Divorced, and with my girls grown and out of the house, I would still go back “home” for fireworks with my mom and meet up with all my childhood friends.

The house is sold now and both my parents deceased. This is the first year that I did not return. It was bittersweet.

Independence Day brings so many sweet and innocent memories to me, a time I cherished and looked forward to every year. It’s not quite the same excitement now, but I still enjoy a beautiful light show in the night sky.

Recognizing that this day marked freedom for our country to a specific few and that too many others continued to live in slavery, bondage, servitude, and with few or no rights. I can only hope with each Independence Day that more and more people will experience true freedom.

Photos: Trenton Thunder Stadium, Trenton, NJ. 7.4.23 by LA