Fourth of July Kisses and Misses

When you’re a septuagenarian the 4th of July comes with many memories. For me those memories usually include bodies of water, family potlucks, small-town or boat parades, fireworks and The Kiss. No one could ever forget their very first kiss if it took place with the whooshes, crackling hisses and booms that come with pops of brilliant colors bursting overhead in the night sky. Oh! My! God! I was fifteen and he was seventeen and when he died nine-ten years ago they had to cut him out of his house because he was so obese. I’m glad that teenage crush burned itself out because I would have hated a life that included cooking for a man who ate himself to death.

How did the crush end? Exactly one year after The Kiss he gave me a line of hickeys that went from my ear all the way down to my cleavage. I was so naïve I didn’t even know what they were until my brother told me I’d better cover those up before our mother saw them. Not an easy thing to do at a lake cottage where we spent half our days in the water, but for the next few days I lived in a flannel shirt and if my mother knew why I was bundled up, she never let on. And thus my very first crush ended. On the next 4th of July when he again came to stay at his friend’s cottage, I was no longer drooling over his beautiful face and taken in by his flattering words. 

 

The year of our bicentennial was another memorable 4th of July. You might remember that year we celebrated the nation’s birthday for the entire summer, not just on the fourth. There were festivals and fairs, synchronized church bells, a flotilla of ships like no other on the Hudson River in Operation Sail, a laser beam via satellite cut a star-spangled ribbon here on earth and a landing pad was built for UFOs to come help us celebrate. Red, white and blue clothing, food and product packaging was everywhere that summer. I even stood in a long line to sign a copy of the Declaration of Independence that was buried in a 100 year time capsule. America’s creativity was in high gear.

 

That was 1976 and Don and I went a little crazy collecting every souvenir we could get our hands on. We were sure saving them for the next fifty years would make us rich. The problem was lots of other people had the same idea and all those special edition postage stamps and coins, glasses, cups, hats, jewelry, newspapers, fast food wrappings, Liberty Bells, quilt patterns and dishes are still in my basement, in a souvenir wooden crate put out by the Anheuser-Busch brewery. My husband didn’t drink but that didn’t stop Don from buying two of those boxes of bicentennial beer, the bottles from which got sold off individually twenty years ago. My all-time favorite bicentennial souvenir, though, is hanging in the back of my closet. It’s a long, loose fitting hippie-style dress with a smocked front that I made out of a light weight “homespun” cream colored fabric with small, 1976 dated flags and fireworks printed all over it. I wore it to every weekend festival, parade and bluegrass jamboree we could find that summer of ’76. Like I said, we went a little overboard and we lapped up all the patriotic theme celebrations within a 100 mile radius. My only regret is that I don’t have a photo of me wearing that dress. It was the best summer of my life. 

 

There were lots of other years when my 4th of July memories all blend into one of two categories: 1) the years when we’d lounge around a lake at either my parent’s cottage or at a cottage with my husband’s family. Food, family and roasting marshmallows over campfires after dark. It doesn’t get much better than that; or 2) the years we’d take off on mini vacations, antique hunting at garage sales and flea markets along Lake Michigan on our way up north. When we’d get there the best part was waking up in a tent pitched in a state park and hearing the waves washing the shore and the seagulls calling us down to the sandy beach. 

 

For my entire life, I’ve claimed the 4th of July as my favorite holiday and I’ve meant it. It represents family, fun, apple pie and patriotism. And now I miss it, the way it used to be. I miss the smell of large bodies of water and fireworks. I miss the family storytellers and jokesters, the ladies who made the best dishes to pass and guys who gave the warmest hugs. I miss how the strangers we met on mini vacations had the time for friendly exchanges. I miss having a president who didn’t embarrass me! I miss the certainty I used to feel that the better, most altruistic side of ourselves and others will always rise to the top and guide our nation down the path our Founding Fathers, in their infinite wisdom, envisioned for us. Hopefully, the checks and balances our constitution promises will kick in with the mid-terms and, like that line of hickeys I got on the Fourth, the current administration’s total lack of credibility and decorum will prove to be an anomaly that will do no permanent damage. ©

 

the beer case, stock photo, mine is in better condition