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The Fourth of July. Red, white and blue, star-spangled, flag-waving day to exult in America. Or something like that. I'm not sure where my patriotism went. It was right there a minute ago, when I was painting Betsy Ross on the firehydrant out front for the Bicentennial. Or when I laced red, white, and blue crepe paper through the spokes of my banana-seat bike to ride in the Kiwanis Pet Parade. Or when I shook the president's hand and wrote a poem about it. But the president was Gerald Ford. And I haven't ridden a bike with a banana seat since, oh, fourth grade or so. And the bicentennial was 24 years ago. Now, I think of myself more as a citizen of the world (or the World Wide Web) and denizen of California than an American. I mean, I love the fireworks, the music's soul-stirring and all, and I'm a sucker for a good parade. But patriotic? That's a hard one. Patriotism seems to have been put up on the same shelf where I've stored religious faith--not that important to my life right now, maybe I'll get back to it someday. At present, it just seems so...gauche...to express strong feelings for one's nation. On the other hand, I am glad to be an American citizen when I think about it. I don't have to worry that saying something against the government will mean a jail term or worse. I can worship (or not) as I choose...or if I can't, it's not because of the government. I can move from one side of the country to the other without special papers and visas. I can travel outside of the U.S. if I choose without worrying whether I can return or whether I'll be allowed to leave. I see these things as good. I know that not all citizens of this world have these rights. But I'm not sure whether patriotism will help them attain the rights I so often take for granted. Seems like that's where patriotism turns into something uglier--a sort of I Know How To Fix Your Country Better Than You Do attitude. I'm not so sure we do. Despite Occam's Razor, life's not usually that simple. On a lighter note, tonight Wayne and I will be at Shoreline Amphitheatre--an outdoor venue built on a former garbage dump--where we'll listen to the San Francisco Symphony play a pops concert with Stars and Stripes Forever at the end heralding the fireworks exploding over our heads. This is one of my favorite ways to spend the Fourth, second only barely to watching the parade in Columbia State Park, down a Gold Rush main street so short the parade cycles through twice to make it last longer. And then they bring out the 150-year-old pumper truck "Papeete" and we all help shoot water down the street to where the kids are waiting to get drenched. (There's a story behind why the pumper is called "Papeete" too.) And tonight I'll watch the fireworks and wonder just what I believe. Cheryl |
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