I am busy packing up the car to head north for the Fourth of July. It seems impossible that this holiday, so central to summer, is here already. I will spend it, as I have for over 25 years, with family and dear friends at the cabin in northern Wisconsin. It is a holiday with many rituals that have changed and shifted over the years and this year will bring, yet more, changes. For many years our boys brought friends and the neighboring cabin owner's nephews also were present. We lovingly referred to them as 'the boys of summer'. These 'boys' are now, for the most part, men. Some will be present while others will spend their time with other friends, no longer a part of the ritual that held us together for so many summers.  Instead girlfriends are now involved and there are those waiting the birth of babies and even one little one for us all to adore. The Princess of the Lake.

This is one of those holidays that means very different things to different people. For some it is the patriotism of the celebration of our country's freedom. For others it is the true height of all that spells summer: lakes, boats, ice cream, parades, lightly sunburned skin, walk-around foods and eating outside. For still  others it is simply a few days to pull away from the office to try to soak up the freedom known primarily by those younger that sixteen. And of course, there are fireworks. Those completely indulgent, slightly dangerous, displays of oohs and ahhs.

Whatever your experience of this holiday, it is one of those days that binds us together as Americans. It is the day when even the least patriotic rustles through their bureau drawer to find something red, white and blue to wear. It is the day when we all stand at attention when our veterans march by. Most of us cannot know what they have known and so the only response that seems appropriate is our feet on the ground, our eyes on them, signaling our honor, silently offering our thanks. We watch the children, freckles emerging with each passing moment, their faces smiling as they lick ice cream cones or run for the candy thrown in the parade. Every small town across the country hauls out its fire engines and police cars, shines them up and turns the siren on as loud as possible to the delight of the children as they move along the parade route. Queens wave from the backs of convertibles as we herald the many festivals that will flow out from this signature holiday that celebrates such things as strawberries, apples, lumberjacks, and, in Wisconsin, even cow-pies. 

At some point we might look around at the color, the smiling faces and the sheer frivolity of it all and realize we have forgotten any worries we had. We might even have relaxed into a nonproductive moment, simply being. And wouldn't that be wonderful?

What ever our experience of this mid-summer delight, it is surely a time to remember that we live in a beautiful, blessed country and to give our thanks.