Dear Beth, 

     The Fourth-of-July, Independence Day has passed with little significance for us here at “Brightly”. We used it as a normal workday and didn’t even have time for the “Fireworks Display” given by our cousin tonight. A few have used it as a holiday, but how different when I was a child. 

     For everyone it was a holiday then, rich or poor, city or country, it was the Christmas of the summer. I can remember three things very vividly as those days come to mind-the significance of the flag, families getting together, and the picnics. As a member of the commission that is now working on the Bicentennial for 1776, my heart weeps when I realize that the flag and Declaration of Independence have little significance to so many today.

     It would be good to have an old fashioned Fourth-of-July. One where reverence for the founders of our nation was next to the reverence of our family. Yes, families getting together for a special time of love, from the tiniest tot to the eldest grandfather. Fried chicken and homemade ice cream were two musts for the menu. For us poor folks, it was one of the few times of the year for ice cream and the home-made kind was so delicious we felt as if we could eat it until it ran out of our ears. 

     The weather was always hot, but this just seemed to add to the good taste of the ice cream and the warmth of the love and fellowship that abounded throughout the family circle. In the afternoon, the children put on their swimsuits and jumped into whatever water was available, whether it was the creek, river, or just one of Mom’s big bathtubs. The adults sat in the lawn chairs fanning themselves, chatting away, and enjoying every minute of the holiday so well deserved.

     As night came, we thrilled over the sparklers and few firecrackers our scanty budget would allow. There was no partiality, each child was given the same number of sparklers. The girls being shier than the boys, they would let the boys shoot the firecrackers. We girls had to use our hands to cover our ears. After all, where else and at what other time had we ever heard such loud noises. Now the world seems to be full of noise. My husband and I live near a Naval Weapons Station, and all day it booms forth with high-powered ammunition. It keeps the windows and doors rattling, and we hardly know what it is to have a picture hang straight. 

     Oh, Dear Beth, how many wars it has taken to keep that first Fourth-of-July. How many guns have been shot, how many lives have been given, and on it goes. I am grateful for the fourteen years of my childhood when there was no war, when there were happy, meaningful days, and how I wish that someday you may know them, too.

© 2001 Florence Jenkins Muse. All rights reserved