Independenced, Eh?

This morning, I got an e-mail from a Canadian friend, wishing me a happy 4th of July. It said, among other things, "I'm not sure how Americans celebrate, but..."

This is actually the second 4th of July I've spent in Canada - over the weekend, I was trying to remember what I did last year, and finally remembered that I was here, on my interview trip, because it was the only time in the summer when I could get two consecutive days off to spend here. When my (now) boss was trying to schedule the trip, he asked if I had the 4th off, because that would give us two days for my visit, and my response was lukewarm. He asked if it would be okay to do it then, because I sounded reluctant, and I responded, "No, that's really the only option that makes sense, it's just that spending the 4th of July in another country just seems kind of...sad." And...well...it is. I mean, I still get a day off here - Canadians celebrate Canada Day on July 1, and they have fireworks and cookouts and phenomenally stupid hats and all, but in patriotism, as in so many other things, Americans are more...well...exuberant than Canadians are. This is particularly true when it comes to celebrating our independence - ours was achieved through an act of rebellion...theirs, an act of Parliament. My country is like my family - I can poke fun at it all I want because we've been through heaven and hell together. I may not always agree with everything it does, and it may piss me off, but as soon as an outsider tries to take a crack at her I will defend her fiercely because dammit, that's my sister you're talking about and I love her dearly. So, dear Canadian friends, please forgive me if I kind of snort at your Canada Day festivities - not only will they never resonate with me the way the 4th festivities do, I'm not sure they'll ever resonate with CANADIANS the way Independence Day does with Americans. We fought a revolution for the freedom to be what we are, for better or worse, and 231 years later, that still means a great deal to us. And I can't speak for any of my countrymen, but when I'm watching fireworks, I can't help but think about those "rockets' red glare" and "bombs bursting in air" lines in our national anthem. I swell with pride, admiration, and gratitude toward those who came before me, crafted a great nation, and gave me the freedom to criticize it.

So to answer the question of how Americans celebrate, I present the following sampler of Independence Days (and, specifically, fireworks) gone by:

Age: 3 or 4
Location: Lafayette, IN
Memory: In quite possibly my only concrete memory of my dad's time in grad school (we moved back to VA a month or two before my fifth birthday, and that's pretty much where my childhood memory starts), my parents had taken us to some park where the 1812 Overture was being performed, complete with heavy artillery. I don't really remember what the park looked like, or the fireworks, but I sure as hell remember the bedspread I buried my head into as I cried hysterically when those howitzers kicked in. I was still spooked by the loud noises of fireworks for a few years after that - literally shell-shocked at age 4. Nowadays the 1812 Overture is one of my favorite things about the holiday, and I am always disappointed if it DOESN'T involve firearms. It may not have been written about OUR War of 1812, but dammit, it feels right, and luckily, the National Symphony does it every year. (Side note: one summer evening my brother and I were showing some British friends around DC. We were standing on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial when we heard BOOMs coming from somewhere in the distance. A leader of a nearby tour group mentioned that the source of the noise was a performance of 1812. Something tells me that sort of thing is more rare in the post-9/11 era.)

Age: um, 8ish, I think?
Location: Sadorus, IL
Memory: Our family vacations growing up weren't trips to the Grand Canyon, or theme parks, or cruises. We took two weeks each summer - one on the farm in Illinois with my dad's parents, and one on the lake in Wisconsin with my mom's. Now, when I was a kid, the farm was not something to look forward to. There were a few fun things to do, but we were far from anything resembling "town" or "potato chips," the TV was black and white and only got about 3 channels, the radio was always tuned to WILL to hear the latest corn and bean prices, and we pretty much had to amuse ourselves with antique comic books and board games. And it turned out that this particular year, we would be there for the 4th of July. I remember being fairly disgruntled because 4th on the Farm = no fireworks this year. However, someone happened to look out the window at the right time, and we figured out that, from the front porch, it was possible to see the fireworks in Champaign...about 35 miles away. I remember thinking that was really cool - it was the first time I ever realized there was something really special about the Really, Really Flat Midwest, even though I didn't really appreciate it until years later.

Age: 13 or 14
Location: Chicago, IL
Memory: My mom and I were visiting her sister. Just the two of us - I can't remember why Dad and my brother weren't there that year, but I remember the trip vividly because it was the first time I got to actually do the touristy thing in Chicago. Usually we'd just stop in Chicago at one of my aunts' houses to spend the night on the way from the Farm to the Lake, but since Dad wasn't with us we got to actually spend some time there and goof around the city. Dad's not big on cities, or touristy stuff, so we usually don't do that sort of thing when he's around. So this was our big chance - I had never really even seen the Chicago skyline, let alone gone up in the Sears Tower, Taste of Chicago, Navy Pier, etc. We also decided to do the fireworks downtown, so we took the train in from the 'burbs and made an evening of it. First of all, Chicago does the 4th in style - their fireworks show is, to date, the best one I've ever seen. The city actually celebrates for days with various festivals and activities, and they have three days of fireworks - the ones we went to were on the 3rd. We found some coveted green space on the lakefront, and I had never been so close to such big boomers in my life. Incredible. After the show ended, the mass exodus to the El and commuter trains began. Never before, and never since, have I been part of a mass of pedestrians as it completely took over the roads. Cars couldn't move, but didn't honk or get cranky. The mob flowed toward the train stations in complete peace - everyone was happy, and remarkably benevolent. I'm not a fan of dense crowds in general, but that one was pretty freaking cool, and pretty representative of why I love Chicago as much as I do. I've never seen anything like that in any other big city.

Age: 16
Location: Colonial Williamsburg, VA
Memory: I was at Governor's School. For those of you not from VA, Gov's School is a summer program where the supposedly best and brightest high schoolers (mostly between 11th and 12th grade, but a few between 10th and 11th) pretty much go away to college for a month. You live in dorms, you take classes, you socialize and get your first real taste of what it's going to be like when you go away to school. It makes your senior year feel UNBEARABLY long, but it's a great experience. I went to the Governor's School for Science (for - big shocker - chemistry), which was held at the College of William and Mary. We actually had class on the 4th - I remember a group of guys trying to stage a protest by writing "No Class on 4th of July" on napkins in the dining hall at breakfast and attaching them to their t-shirts. Not much of a rebel yell, but what do you expect from a group of nerds getting their first taste of independence from parental authority? W&M is right on the edge of Colonial Williamsburg, so we walked to the grounds of the Governor's Mansion to watch the fireworks. Williamsburg can get a wee bit cheesy, but they really are making a legitimate effort at historical accuracy, and I have to say that sitting in front of that Governor's Mansion while the Fife and Drum Corps marches around on the 4th of July feels pretty damned historical. As far as I'm concerned, Independence sounds like fife and drum music.

Age: 19
Location: Washington, DC
Memory: The year in Chicago planted the seed in my mom's and my brains that we really should go into the District to see their big show one year. We talked about it for a while, but I didn't actually go until I was in college. I went a few different times with different people, but the coolest year was the summer after my second year. I met up with a handful of school friends on the grounds of the Washington Monument. There were actually supposed to be twice as many of us - one contingent coming in from the western 'burbs, and ours from the south - but this was in the B.C.P. epoch (before cell phones) and we never managed to connect with them. We went early in the day, picked a spot and staked out our territory with a blanket. We spent the day reading, hanging out, getting sunburned, and just generally relaxing. When it got dark and the fireworks began, they were almost directly over our heads, and we could feel the ash raining down on us. The DC fireworks are generally more reserved than those in Chicago or New York, but they fit the setting. They're choreographed to music played live by the National Symphony or the Air Force Band on the grounds of the Capitol (a free concert, btw, if you can get there early enough to get a seat, but it's usually broadcast on the radio if you're not close enough to hear it live) rather than some canned medley. The music is simple and classic - the aforementioned 1812 Overture, lots of John Philip Sousa...as far as I'm concerned, fireworks just aren't right without these sorts of accompaniments. Throw in the Washington Monument...Capitol...Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials as your backdrop and I dare you to not be proud to be an American in that moment.

Age: 29
Location: Toronto, ON
Memory: Canada Day. My plans to go downtown for the fireworks kind of petered out, so I walked down the street to the overpass where I always look up from my book because I can see the skyline for the first time during my morning commute. I figured there was a reasonable chance I'd been able to see the fireworks from there - if not the ones downtown, then any one of the many smaller shows going on in the surrounding towns. I saw one show pretty much in its entirety due south of me, and bits and pieces of others (both professional and amateur) literally in any direction I looked. It was neat - definitely unique in my mental card catalogue of fireworks past.
But I didn't get to feel the booms.
I don't care how old I get, feeling each boom in my chest and the ash raining down gently on my face will always make me feel like a kid. It makes me feel small, and fills me with wonder at the beautiful, constantly changing lights in the sky. The shapes...the smell of sulfur...the only sense not touched by a fireworks show is taste (hopefully). If I can't feel the booms, I might as well just watch them on tv. Which brings me to...

Age: 29
Location: Toronto, ON
Memory: 4th of July. When I came home from work tonight, I was greeted with fireworks of a different sort. I opened my apartment door, and the alarm system went off in the house upstairs. Weird. But not the first time such a thing has happened - could have been caused by a draft...stray badger...a band of escaped psychotic serial killer clowns...just about anything. I hear the voices in the speakers asking the "intruder" to identify themselves...no response...alarm re-arms itself. No big deal. Until I open my door to go outside and take in the trash can, and it goes off AGAIN.
And I get to the top of the stairs and the kitchen door leading into the main house (which, being ajar when I got home, I had blamed inwardly for the first alarm) slams shut as I open the back door.
I am FREAKED THE FUCK OUT.
Common sense and many, many horror movies tell me to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE. But I haven't heard any footsteps or other traces of a human (or non-human but equally homicidal) presence above my head, so instead, I lock myself in my apartment and cower.

I may have watched the fireworks on TV tonight, but I DEFINITELY felt the booms.