To me, the Fourth of July was always the quintessential holiday for families and kids. I have so many childhood memories of the Fourth … from watching the local parade on Park Street to marching in the parade alongside my mom as she rode on a float—dressed as the Statue of Liberty (how a British national got the job of Lady Liberty was one of those childhood mysteries which persists through the present day). Then there was the celebration of summer food: the barbeque, the ice cream, and the fruit salad. My mom used to carve a watermelon into a huge green-striped basket in which shiny grapes, sharp-edged apple chunks, browning banana rounds, bright pineapple, and multicolored melon balls would nestle.
My dad would reverently unfold the Stars and Stripes and place it in the flag bracket on the front porch. (The porch thermometer would be in the high eighties or even the nineties.) I remember the pleasant goose bumps I would get when singing the rousing tunes of “America the Beautiful,” “My Country ‘Tis of Thee,” and of course, “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Most of all, I remember a lot of noise: the bands playing, the fireworks, the cheering and shouting, the lawnmowers, the swing set creaking … all the sounds of summer crowded into one day.
Since those days of sun suits and popsicles, July 4th has receded somewhat in importance as a holiday for me. Once the parade lost its magical aura of excitement for us kids, the family stopped going; for a while, we would make a point to go and watch the fireworks over the Bay, but eventually, when my sister and I moved away from home, that tradition also came to a close. Since college, the Fourth of July has seemed like a holiday that other families celebrate. Now that I live on the opposite coast from my immediate relations, I always feel a little bit lost during these “family holidays.” However, now that I’m married and thinking about kids of my own in the future, I am getting interested in rekindling some of those old traditions and starting new ones of our own.
