I am feeling a bit nostalgic today. It being the fourth of July certainly has a lot to do with that. I am also experiencing optimism. In spite of the political climate, this is a day that reminds me that we can put all of that aside and do what we as Americans have always done. Pull together, ignore our differences, all kinds, and find a way to narrow the divide that politics has created.

This morning, I skipped the news, likely to be largely negative anyway, and walked out onto our deck and greeted the morning. I noticed our newest neighbors out on their deck and shouted out a greeting across the yard dividing our homes. It was a simple act, and not truly difficult as we are on good terms with them, but still very fulfilling. It reminded me how easy it is to start that conversation and what a pleasant way to start my day and hopefully, theirs. But that was only the start of my day, and here is where the nostalgic part comes.

We decided to crash my youngest daughter’s neighborhood celebration. There was going to be a bike parade and cookout for the children of the block. Our three-year-old granddaughter, Faye, was going to take her decorated trike and be part of the parade. As her doting Opa and Mimi, we felt it only right and proper that we be there. When we rolled into their driveway to surprise them, Faye greeted us, bubbling over with enthusiasm and I might say patriotic pride. She had made her own flag, dressed for the occasion, and was insisting we all leave for the park immediately.

Arriving at the start of the parade, we found the neighborhood kids and parents assembling behind the big red firetruck that would lead this pint size parade down the parade route. All two blocks of it! Kids were climbing into the fire truck and as they got out, they were given firemen’s hats and a sticker. Joy unbounded all around. Meanwhile, parents were engaged in conversations, “How long have you lived in the neighborhood?” “Where did you move from?” And of course, “How old are your children?” You could see them swell with pride when answering that last one. Even we were welcomed into the conversation as clearly being grandparents. Maybe we might even have some sage, though possibly outdated, wisdom to share. The parade hadn’t even started, but the mood was already festive. This was their a big deal. It was their neighborhood tradition and I felt immense pride in being a participant this year. You see, we were invited to walk in the parade right there behind Faye! Eventually, with the kids lined up, the firetruck hit the lights and siren, and we were off.

As we walked down the street, crowds, no throngs of people, sometimes two or three in a cluster, one deep, cheered and applauded those valiant wee participants as they peddled by. At the finish line of the parade, a cookout picnic awaited, complete with the truly Fourth of July worthy food; hot dogs, chips and watermelon. The kids were getting face painting and parents continued to meet and get to know their neighbors. Not wanting to keep explaining that we didn’t really live in the neighborhood, we decided to claim residency based on the fact that we had been involved in the building of Faye’s Casa, her backyard treehouse. Regardless, we felt welcomed and accepted.

I may or may not finish my day with fireworks. As much as I enjoy them, they are not really necessary to emphasize what this day has meant to me. As I walked behind that firetruck with my little granddaughter beaming with pride, I felt an immense sense of patriotism and satisfaction. That little simple parade were my fireworks. And that is what the Fourth of July is about. It is backyard conversations, over the fence, or across decks. It is neighborhood get togethers, fireworks, and most definitely a two-block trike parade. It is walking behind a firetruck with your children, grandchildren, and neighbors. It is being an American, neither republican nor democrat. Just human beings, setting aside their differences, and instead, sharing their commonalities, hopes and dreams. It is a day for optimism, celebration, and friendship. If your day was even had as good as mine was, you have been blessed.

I will need to finish this up now. Our neighbor has invited us to cross the divide between our place and theirs for an evening of wine and conversation.  Happy Fourth of July to all my readers and Happy 250th Birthday America.