Fourth of July. Independence Day. Whatever you call it, today is a day to celebrate America. Although the forefathers declared independence on July 2nd, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776. Or so the story goes.
For Americans, the national holiday occurs as the temperatures are warming … or should I say, heating up. The day is filled with parades, cookouts, and fireworks viewed with family and friends. Children drip popsicles on their sneakers and dads smear barbeque sauce on sizzling meats.
It is a day to honor our country with its official colors – Red, White, and Blue.
“The Star Spangled Banner”, “Proud to be an American”, “Stars and Stripes Forever”, and countless other patriotic songs fill the air. People are friendlier as if celebrating Christmas in July.
For me, it is a day … or a week … to remember my sweet brother who was a proud American. Having served in the Army when the military still had a draft, my brother was always patriotic. Maybe it was fitting that he was passing during last year’s celebration. At 74 his body finally gave out the morning after.
I remember just days before hospice brought a hospital bed for his last days on earth, how important it was to him to ensure a fresh, untattered flag was flying in front of his home. As he struggled to changed out flags and attach the new one to the pole, I ran to the garage in an effort to find better string. I found fishing wire, which worked perfectly. Once secured, he put the flag pole over his shoulder, stepped up to his walker, and shuffled across the long porch. He struggled to maneuver down three steps making his way to the driveway and the location of the bracket.
He wanted to hang the flag himself. When it didn’t sit quite right, I asked if I could help him lift the pole to the next level of the bracket. Seated properly, he stared reverently at Old Glory – the Red and White stripes and the White stars on the blue background waving in the breeze, a nod to his love for his Country. Then he turned and made his way back up the steps, across the porch, and into the house, where he immediately sat down and repositioned the oxygen feed to his face. The struggle was real.
At that time, and now – a year later, I am reminded how freedom is not free. Hundreds of thousands of men and women have made the ultimate mental and physical sacrifices for us to be able to celebrate this day. My wish for today is that each person who lives on American soil will take at least a brief moment to reflect. Sure, America has challenges. Yet, we are still lucky to live in this country. To enjoy freedom and independence. Yes, I am proud to be an American. Happy 4th!
Cynthia
Silver Sage Sisters 