As I look back over my childhood and think about the birthday of our nation, the Fourth of July brings back memories that feel close enough to touch.
I remember going to the parade and watching cowboys ride by on horseback carrying American flags. I remember the Shriners in their little cars, clowns pulling jokes, children scrambling for candy, and families lining the streets together. I remember fireworks, laughter, and the excitement that came with knowing this was America’s day. What I do not remember is the celebration being centered on politicians.
When evening came, we sometimes had a few fireworks at home. Nothing fancy, because money was tight, but nearly every family in the neighborhood had something to light. Other years, we went to Albuquerque to watch the Dukes play baseball and stayed for the fireworks afterward.
Back then, my greatest concern was whether my bicycle had a flat tire or whether rain would cancel our baseball game. We drank from the garden hose, chose teams from the neighborhood, and played until somebody’s mother called us home for supper. Our parents sent us outside in the morning, and we returned when we were hungry. There were no cellphones tracking every step and no computers filling every quiet moment. We had one another.
We argued and sometimes fought, but nobody reached for a gun. A fistfight ended, tempers cooled, and the person you fought might become one of your closest friends.
I remember the respect people showed the flag, military members, and the presidency. At my high school, pickup trucks often had rifles displayed in the rear window or tucked behind the seat. Nobody considered using one against a classmate. The firearm was treated as a tool, and responsibility was expected.
Sundays were special. In the evening, our parents might take us to Dairy Queen for the one treat we received that week. We did not earn allowances for chores. We worked because helping the family was expected. When we wanted spending money, we found a job, mowed lawns, or did whatever honest work was available.
I watched my children grow up in a different America. Now I look at my grandchildren and wonder what kind of country we are leaving them. Technology has made life faster, but not always better. We communicate constantly, yet too often we fail to understand one another. Political disagreement has become personal hatred, and patriotism is sometimes judged according to which candidate a person supports.
I support Donald J. Trump, but America is greater than any president, party, or election. When I was young, we understood that a person could disagree with the man in the White House while still respecting the office and loving the country.
I worry about socialist and communist ideas gaining influence within the Democratic Party and across our nation. Others may disagree, and that is their right. But freedom also gives me the right to say that I miss the America I knew: an America built on faith, work, responsibility, family, community and respect.
We cannot return completely to the past, nor was the past perfect. But we can teach our grandchildren what those days taught us: love your country, help your neighbor, keep your word, respect freedom, and never take America for granted.
Just a thought from one American. Have a wonderful day.
Sources: National Archives, Declaration of Independence; Library of Congress, Independence Day Traditions; U.S. Code, Title 4, Section 8, Respect for the Flag
