A Rough Year for the Big Day

I regret to admit that I am not feeling any significant zest for the Fourth of July this year. It’s not due to the pandemic lack of traditional activities, either. Between the outrageous behavior of the current occupant of the White House and his supporters, and the ongoing national reckoning of white supremacy and systemic racism, it is an extremely sobering time to be an American.

It is more a time of mourning than a time for celebration. There is no shame in grief if it means one is facing the truth. It still feels terrible.

Locally, in Columbia/HoCo, individual communities will find a way to make their own fun, and that’s a good thing. I am hoping that tonight will be the last gasp for all the random fireworks which have been plaguing my neighborhood of late. They don’t feel like fun to me. They feel more like we are under siege.

Over the years I have celebrated Independence Day at potlucks with friends, at the Longfellow parade, at the nearby elementary school, exploring Bridge Columbia, at the Lakefront fireworks, and at the top of the hill near my home. Probably my favorite was last year when I was privileged to be at an event which was truly integrated and my sheltered white self got a chance to feel celebration in an entirely new way.

My world got bigger. My experience of Columbia was richer. And my picture of America was more complete.

In our nation, and in our communty, experiences like that happen only through intentional effort. Without persistence the racial divides set in place for generations simply replicate themselves, even here in Columbia/HoCo. We all have to work to make that happen. If we have any reason to celebrate at all this year it is that more and more people are seeing the ugliness of this truth for what it is: distinctly un-American. And they are willing to take to the streets and show up at the polls to bring about change.

At the risk of sounding hokey, that’s the best of America to me. That’s patriotism. That is love of country, when you believe its freedoms are so precious that they must be for all.

I’m not sure what sort of patriotic songs people will be singing today, but I’ll be reflecting on this one.

None of us are free.
None of us are free.
None of us are free, if one of us are chained.
None of us are free.

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