“Thank the Lord for Independence Day!” a man said with a smile as he jogged past me on the Biltmore Lake trail.
I stopped for a minute as a tall, older man whom I didn’t know went running by me. I continued on my walk deciding that what I had just heard could only be a reminder of where I live - the South. Most Americans tell you to have a “Happy” July 4th"but it never occurred to me that God could be responsible for Independence Day. Really?
It has been a quiet, rather lonely, 4th of July for us in the middle of a worsening pandemic. We have no family visiting as has been our custom for so many years. We pay attention to the warnings to stay away from others. So we are alone with our thoughts and memories. It does not feel like a time for celebrating anything – not a “great” United States or any of the usual upbeat things that go along with a national independence celebration.
Art and I headed into the woods early this morning in what we said, half-jokingly, was the perfect social distancing activity on this July 4th . A 5-mile hike from our front door, up Scott’s Mountain behind us, into the Pisgah National Forest, We didn’t encounter another person. It was just us, the lush beautiful trees around us providing welcome shade on this hot summer day. The birds were sounding their calls around us as an occasional squirrel scampered in the dry leaves. Luckily no bear sightings. Occasionally we heard an airplane overhead breaking the silence, a sign of the country “opening up” to travel. Back home in a few hours for a restful afternoon of no plans. Yet the memories of years past seem to haunt me today.
Our best 4th of July holidays where those we spent at Hawkwood, in Rochester, Vermont for 20 years. The old photo albums are full of happy family photos of gatherings for meals at the round table on our deck overlooking the Green Mountains. Mother and Dad came often, as did Megan from California, and Hayden was sometimes home with us. There are photos of nieces and nephews when they were younger who visited us at that time. Some years we invited old friends from other places we had lived to spend the holiday with us. For us, July 4th became a time we loved sharing where we lived with others.
Mother and Dad at the Rochester 4th of July Parade
There are many photos of us on the Rochester Green at the Annual July 4th parade surrounded by neighbors. In a town of 1200, we knew everyone. Some were dressed in red, white, and blue, cheering the homemade floats going by. One year Bernie Sanders lead the Rochester parade, and another year Governor Howard Dean, was the parade leader. We cheered enthusiastically waving our American flags. The Rochester Fire Truck and EMT vehicles were always part of the parade , The Liberty Hill Farm pulled a trailer with a tractor. Town kids got to sit on the haystacks and ride in the parade and wave along the way. Another year, the Park House, a residence for the elderly, worked to make a float. The old ladies in their gayly decorated straw hats and flowery dresses were a big hit as they rode in the parade. There was even a truck with a big Creemee Ice Cream on the back advertising the local gas station. (In the summer we bought a creemee every time we went to town.) The Town Constable, Tom, rode his cruiser bringing up the rear. Art was even asked to be a judge one year.
Park House ladies riding their float in the parade
The Park House float
Hooray for Creemees!
I remember the aroma of outdoor cooking grills being fired up in preparation for a fried chicken luncheon for anyone wanting to stay for lunch after the parade. A fund raiser for the Rochester Volunteer Fire Department, the firemen and their wives set up tables on the Rochester Park and cooked the food. The Rochester librarian took advantage of the town gathering across the street from the public library to set up a table with used books for sale.
It was in Rochester, Vermont at the July 4th celebrations that I learned, what American patriotism felt like. I sensed the community pride of this town that came together in a spirit of celebration. We owned a home in this small town and were part of it all. It was special.
Growing up in South America I have only vague recollections of July 4th. It would have been winter, perhaps a school day and work day. We must have gone to the American Ambassador’s residence for a reception and speeches as is done in many overseas posts. All Americans are invited. As a child I didn’t know what it meant to be American, I only heard it from Mother who reminded us often “you are Americans, and don’t forget it”. Years later she seemed surprised when I told her I didn’t feel totally American. How could I, growing up and going to school in Spanish, and being comfortably immersed in the Latin American culture. It was in Vermont that I first felt and understood what it was to be a patriotic American.
Our last Vermont 4th of July was nine years ago today. The photos of that day make me nostalgic and a little bit sad. Megan made a special trip from Berkeley to be there for the weekend so she could stay one more time in a place that had become a second home to her. Hayden brought his girlfriend Jessica (now his wife) from Washington D.C. to share Rochester with her as it had been such a big part of his life. As soon as the holiday was over we packed up the house that would soon be sold, We drove away for the last time at the end of July and headed to Asheville and a new life in the South. We have been back to Rochester to visit but never on July 4th. It wouldn’t be the same without friends and family to be with us.
Our last Vermont July 4th 2011with Megan, Hayden, and Jessica
Watching the Parade
It’s been a quiet day here and a thunderstorm just blew over. I try and imagine what there is to celebrate this year….and I come up with nothing at all – a pandemic and a country that has unraveled in ways I no longer recognize. This holiday has never been the same since we left Vermont to live in North Carolina. Still, the memories of those years when we felt like true patriots alongside our neighbors, are still with me.
“Thank the Lord for the good memories of better times!”I say.
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