“
‘Independence Day’…For Some, When It Should Be For All “
07/04/12
To my wonderfully kind, and caring friends, and ever
most respected loyal readers,
In America—today, my dearest friends, today is
‘Independence Day’, or as it is more casually known: ‘the 4th of
July’. For a certain number of us, today
marks yet another cessation of our daily labors; families get together, the day
is full of implied excitement.
For many, today will be remarked by a grand picnic,
or grilling out; hotdogs, and hamburgers are the rule, with tons of potato
salad, macaroni salad, baked beans, and, maybe pie (with, or without ice-cream,
as the dessert of choice ).
The convenience stores will suffer a run on ice,
which is dumped into Styrofoam coolers.
Or large tubs will display their icy contents of sodas and beer, all
much-needed to quench one’s constant thirst in trying to fight off the heat.
Their may issue music from a million sources, and
voices seem a little louder; all this is a natural consequence of a holiday
that has pure and undiluted noise as its base. For today—at least—everything
seems to be louder, more colorful, more intense in its goal of merry-making,
and celebration.
There’ll be picnics by the pool ( for those who have
them ), or trips planned to the beach ( for those who don’t ), and people,
coolers, umbrellas, boom boxes, swim suits of every type, and towels of every
color laid upon the sand; There’s so much noise that even the sound of waves,
or the errant cries of gulls ( swooping low, for pieces of neglected rolls )
pale against this background din.
A few, die-hard partiers thrash their way out in the
water as far as they can safely go, while elsewhere, sharp-eyed moms divide
their attention from trying to work on a tan, to watching, most carefully,
their young children, as the splash-about at surf’s edge, playing in the sand,
or digging up shells.
And for those who—perhaps—have not quite had their
fill, half a dozen paint-scratched concession trucks blare their own songs to
attract patrons armed with sticky, wet change to pay for ices, colas, or
hotdogs; and, even though few, if any of these hawkers would truly pass a
Health Department test for cleanliness or safety, still, others swear by these
mishandled Nathan’s, or Soubrette’s. It
has to be the dirty water that makes them taste—somehow—better.
There is an anxious excitement in the air, as the
long and languid afternoon moves into twilight as all awaits the splendid shows
of fireworks.
An anticipation of even louder noises, and brilliant
explosions of light. For even with the
heat and muggy air, the tiny, endless tents of fireworks that for the past week
have sprung-up along or highways like dandelion puff balls, have been selling
extremely well, with bottle rockets, Black Cats, M-80’s ( for the bold ), are
carted home, with sparklers for the little ones.
A little later one, as if on signal, all our tiny
hopes are lit, and sent aloft into the sky, to burn, and whistle, and ‘ka-pow’,
with a collected riot of lights and noise that makes all the dogs bark in the
neighborhood, and, in watching this display, there are polite and wondrous
exchanges by neighbors who—perhaps—have not spoken in months.
Inside the houses, are those who merely watch staged
shows on TeeVee, while armed with bowls of chips and dips, and plenty to wash
it down with. And there they pass the
evening away, in the relative coolness of their homes; they change channels to
watch fireworks in Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, and elsewhere, listening to
their bands and concerts.
And while these ‘super productions’ cast wide their
raucous spectrum over plasma TeeVee, somehow, something indefinable has been
lost, either by distance, or, lack of direct participation. There are several noticeable degrees of
somehow ‘falseness’ there, for, despite the over-the-top would-be grandeur, it
is, nonetheless, a faded, and failed replica;
Although, tomorrow, they will among the more
vociferous complainers when they see all the firework sticks and wrappers in
their yard, and in the street.
The more genuine experiences requires several small
burn marks on the hands and arms; and the ‘morning after wheeze’ from having
stayed out too late, inhaling stagnant air that irritated the lung, and burned
the eyes with the lingering smell of sulphureted smoke, that gathers all about
the cars, and people rushing here and there.
For not a few, the day is evidenced by the firing of
pistol, rifle-fire into the air, with no apparent notion that the bullets
hurled Heavenward would ever fall back to earth again.
This glorious night lasts large and long, until, by
small, and small, to medium, to medium, to large pauses indicate that this
year’s supply of fireworks has ended, still…there will be the odd neighbor,
down the street, who will continue to set off rockets until it is quite late,
when, many of the revelers have given up, and gone to bed.
For after all, for so many, tomorrow is but another
work day, made entirely weird that there’s now only two days left until the
natural weekend.
Around the country, arguments erupt; the ‘snooze
buttons’ on the clock receive repeated hits; everyone is tired, and NO ONE
wants to have to go to school or work.
Hasty showers are taken. While
tons of coffees are scalding, swallowed without care. Oh God, where are the breath mints? I thought
I left them in the car? The skin still
smells of gunpowder, as do the bed linens.
In many ways, we celebrate our ‘Independence’ with
as much heedless care as we do our New Year’s.
I know the Country’s collective heads hurt with
resounding migraines; but, should you have even just a spare moment, I would
ask for your kind consideration, please.
When you earlier enjoyed your picnic, having fun with your family and
friends, did you perhaps give one
thought about an older, next-door neighbor who can no longer ‘get out’ as
easily as you? Did you wonder for one
second if they had food to celebrate with?
Or, even if they had food?
On your way into a job that frankly you despise, did
you happen to pass a hospital, whose residents, living or dying, were not as
apt to celebrate the holiday as did you?
Did you even stop to share with anyone your rapturous gladness to be
free? With anyone? A hotdog freely shared might have been
someone’s only caloric intake for the day.
For even now, across the globe, and you should know
of them as you watch your nightly TeeVee shows, where tyranny exists to such a
foul and putrid extent, where families huddle amid garbage dumps to escape
being rounded up, separated, molested, or simply killed. To witness their wives and children tortured
even as the men are tortured, beaten, assaulted, starved into blind submission,
or sold into slavery.
Their children are not so different from ours, are
they? How different is their love? How differently do they cry at night, in
constant fear, and cling to their mothers and fathers who cannot help them, or
protect them.
Even we, who think ourselves different, kinder,
better, have a soaring domestic violence rate unsurpassed by any other
so-called 1st World Nation.
Not to mention drug use, and abuse; crimes of utter bestiality, the same
minds refused to consider, though they did call it the ‘Holocaust’….
We do not care; we do not want to be bothered. We do not want to know. We do not even want to be aware…because we
have been made dull, and unresponsive.
We idly allow a government of broom-pushers, and store clerks to foregather
in the light of purest evil, greed, certainly.
But evil, incontestably, down past the very depths, past the very ‘Tartarus’
of Hell. How else can a Stalin
‘liquidate’ millions, and millions of his own people? It is that very face of pure and undistilled
evil that we shun.
We have lost our guiding Faith. We have lost ‘our’ promised land. We have lost our ability to love, and to
care, and to get involved, and to be heard.
As long as our base needs can be met.
And, for many of us—admittedly—who are too ill, too weak, and too
afraid, the rigor of even daily living is a balance upon a pin. And our mere survival is hard.
But, tonight, please…let us hold that sparkler’s
light more close to our hearts. To be
ever thankful that we are Americans, and that this—with all its problems, is
still America. For I most firmly believe
that the goodness that is inside all of us can still be reached.
And that ‘Independence Day’ was won for us by those
who most nobly still give up their very lives.
Would you do it? Could you do it? For, surely it is they who will keep our
great grandchildren out of slavery in our own Country.
Tonight, amid the wild celebrations, and the noise
and din, I urge you please, please, please to keep this day within you hearts. And, imagine—for a moment, if you but
will—that the gaudily-colored firework, might—in another situation—be a mortar
round, or that the various pops and fizzles of exploding firecrackers be,
instead, automatic gunfire trained upon an innocent, civilian populace.
I
thank you, and am so very grateful to you, and that I love you with all my
heart.
‘Zahc’/Charles
