So, today being the day that it is, I can’t help but imagine what I would be doing if at home (or more specifically, at my parent’s farm). There would be a cookout. Potato salad (preferably my Aunt Betty’s). Probably at some point, knowing my mom (well, the whole family really), there would be a margarita or some alcohol flowing. But the day, as it always does, would quietly center around my brother.
Center is a strong word considering since he was young Duncan tends to stay out of the spotlight that sometimes illuminates the Padgett life. He is charming and congenial when pressed. However, he loves to show off his pyrotechnical skills. And today is the day to do it. So, sometime after dark, we all get a show created, bought, and delivered to us courtesy Duncan. And considering he doesn’t usually have a staff beyond whomever I’m dating or a random relative, it is always quite the show. One year I had gobs of Atlanta friends down to the farm and I recall several of them saying that was the best July 4th ever. It was too. Of course, Duncan also had us shooting clays during the day. So many of us were so citified or sheltered, several had never held a gun before. But he would have none of it; in his mind (and he has a ton of valid points here) everyone should know how to correctly handle a gun. Fear lies beneath ignorance; therefore know. It’s no wonder I always think of him on Independence Day.
So, if you dare, celebrate today the way my brother would: defying dumb laws, ignoring some social norms, doing something you love and sharing it with others. Everyone revel in some shred of independence for me. Certainly Americans can still do that. And if you have the opportunity to see fireworks, and you don’t, well . . . that is just sad.
Me, I’m watching the Germany / Italy match (and maybe calling my brother).