I love the Fourth. It’s probably my favorite holiday — there’s just something so downright wholesome about it. First of all, I don’t feel guilty for not going to church — so immediately, this holiday begins better than some of the other biggies like Christmas or Easter. Plus, people do things like BBQ and have bike parades and eat hot dogs at the pool. It’s good clean fun — unless of course, you find yourself peeing your bed or barfing on your cute new red, white, and blue outfit — which I have certainly done on one or two past Independence Days.
Yet on this Fourth of July, I am sober as a Carmelite nun and realize as such, I’m much more prone to think about the deeper meaning of this wonderful holiday, rather than to just mindlessly enjoy watching people blow stuff up with a beer in hand. In fact, I thought it was appropriate to give thanks for all the quintessential American things that I love — among them the song American Pie — one of my all time favorites. It seems to be the perfect background music for a day where everything great about the United States is celebrated.
This weekend, Grey and I have tried to honor those good things by reveling in our Americanism. And though I couldn’t convince him to dress up in his old Navy duds (”Stacey, you know that’s illegal.” Booooooorrrrring!), Grey did agree to join Ollie and I in our town’s 4th of July parade as a family of tomatoes for the Farmer’s Market float. We figured nothing could show our patriotic side quite like pretending we’re a familial caprese salad while marching down the street with tuba players, tractors, and fire trucks. Tonight we’ll wait until the cloak of darkness falls and then light everything that’s even semi-flammable on fire and watch it explode. God Bless the USA!!!