Last Tuesday we celebrated the 241st commemoration of Independence Day.
After, what seemed to be an endless wet spring and summer, the day was beautiful.
Two days before we had been invited to the annual barbecue, bonfire and fireworks display at a neighbor’s home. To my four-year-old granddaughter’s dismay it got rained out as central New York was pounded with rain storms all day.
She attended her first one the year before and fell in love with the fireworks. She and her mother have now made it an annual event.
The inclusion of bonfires and fireworks dates back the second celebration of Independence Day in 1777. Bonfires in the various New England towns were a central feature of the celebrations and fireworks were first reported in the State of Rhode Island.
One of the most beautiful fireworks display takes place over Boldt Castle in the middle of the Saint Lawrence River across from Alexandria Bay. Taking grandchildren to see that is high on my bucket list.
The other essential ingredient in our Independence Day celebration is the picnic we are invited to at another close friends’ farm that includes a hay ride throughout the countryside for everyone who want to go.
That more than made up for my granddaughter’s disappointment at missing the fireworks.
Approximately ten to twelve of us mounted the open hay wagon that my friend pulled with his tractor and settled in with a cooler of adult and children beverages to enjoy on the ride.
We rolled up and down the hills of our area, enjoying the respite from the chronic rain and thunderstorms that had been plaguing us all summer.
The sun was shining and the temperature was in the high 70’s. The hills and valleys were the lushest of greens.
The roads in the area had been hit hard by the thunder storms and several were washed out and nearly impassable. It was a reminder that there were forces far more powerful and destructive than mere human creations. It was going to be awhile before the residents living on it would find life back to normal.
My four-year-old granddaughter, dressed in 4th of July colors, sunglasses and a sunhat, dutifully waved to everyone that we passed.
For better or for worse, she appears to have inherited the political gene that runs through the Fahey-McGuire line.
Only later did we learn that she had a better 4th of July than Governor Christie, who was caught sunning himself on a New Jersey beach that was closed to the public because of a state government shut down.
I couldn’t help but reflect upon the fact that all of the adults riding in the hay wagon belonged to different political parties and held political philosophical views that ran completely across the spectrum.
Notwithstanding this, not a word was uttered about politics even on this most important of holidays.
I learned a long time ago that if you pick your friends based upon their political beliefs, you will miss out on some very genuine friendships with some very special people.
Much has been written and said about whether we will survive the Age of Trump.
As the hay wagon pulled back into our host’s yard and this most American experience was coming to an end, I couldn’t help but conclude, that short of a nuclear attack, Americans can survive anything.
After all, we always have.