The Glorious 4th

This Friday will be the 4th of July. Parades, picnics, fireworks, all that stuff. For 10 or 12 years in the ’80s and ’90s our family and a bunch of friends migrated to a nearby town for a gigantic community do. I used to steam mussels, friends brought their specialties, we drank a lot of beer and wine, and as it got dark we settled back for a long, noisy, wonderful fireworks display. For some years now, we’ve been joining friends with a swimming pool for a somewhat more genteel afternoon of paddling, tasting, and sipping. The highlight of the event isn’t fireworks, but a reading of the Declaration of Independence. Most of us are of an age to have been required to memorize parts of the Declaration in school, and as we listen we tend to recite it to ourselves as many do the Book of Common Prayer. It is one of humanity’s great documents, and it can still inspire awe—not just in Americans, I think.

Many of us forget, though, that the bulk of it—the long middle section we weren’t required to commit to memory—is a litany of complaints against George III. The signers believed that “a decent respect to the opinions of mankind” required that that the world know why they were taking such an extraordinary and dangerous step. This part of the Declaration is often considered quaint, even funny, at this distant remove. But in 2008, only the dullest listener or reader could fail to notice that many of the items enumerated to demonstrate “a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny” aren’t very different at all from what the current President of the United States, his administration, and his party in Congress have been busy with over the last seven years.

Ben Franklin once famously said, “The man who trades freedom for security doesn’t deserve either.” This is a universe away our current political standard, enunciated by the administration and its boot-lickers, who have done their craven best to make that transaction seem like common sense, rather than the cowardly surrender to terror that it is. For example, Senator Pat Roberts (R-Kansas), asserts, “I am a strong supporter of the First Amendment, the Fourth Amendment and civil liberties, but you have no civil liberties if you are dead.”

Right, Senator, and I’m sure the men who put their heads in a noose by signing the document we celebrate this week would appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it’s no big deal. The First Amendment merely guarantees freedom of religion, speech, the press, assembly, and peaceful protest. The Fourth Amendment is truly subversive … it prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures.

At the end of the Constitutional deliberations in 1789, Franklin was asked. “Well, Doctor, what have we got—a Republic or a Monarchy?”

“A Republic, if you can keep it.”

The jury’s still out. Oh, wait, do we still do juries?

Rounding into form

I had a difficult time settling back in after the New Zealand trip back in February and early March. Great holidays always want to keep on rolling (Newton has a law about this, I think), and this was one of the very greatest. Combine that with my lifelong disinclination to get in the groove, and my aging brain’s ongoing wrestling match with the word-pile, and you get a kind of petulant dissatisfaction.

But there were bright spots.

Among other places, I’ve spent time in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, and Charlottesville, Virginia. Of course, plenty of time up north in New Hampshire.  And soon, off to Boothbay Harbor, Maine. 

I was in Charlottesville as a hanger-on during a reunion. I spent a lot of time there in an earlier life, and I’ve never liked it. (It’s the world center of Thomas Jefferson worship, a religion of which I’m not a communicant.) But it’s undeniably beautiful, and it was beautiful during the visit, clear, warm, and sunny, with views as long as the curvature of the earth allows. Jefferson’s Monticello overlooks the city. I’d been here often, and twice had a chance to see parts of the house that aren’t on the regular tours. I was astonished to see how vastly the presentation of the house has changed. Less Saint Thomas and more real history, including a long overdue coming to grips with the writer of the Declaration of Independence as slaveholder, including keeping as slaves some of his own children.

Here’s the “nickel” view.

In Coeur d’Alene, I wandered over Tubbs Hill a bit and had a wonderful chance encounter with a very cool man, probably in his 80s, originally from Switzerland. He was looking fit as a fiddle in his triathlon T-shirt and we talked a bit about the Alps and other mountainous parts of the world. He’d obviously spent time in some beautiful high places. We only chatted for 20 minutes or so, but it was one of those memorable passings.

Of course, there was sweet B. We’ll all celebrate her third birthday this weekend, and I'll be in Concord for a week and a bit afterward to fill in some blank spots in the parental schedule. Here are a few more shots from our walk up Waumbek.

Ritual imparting of flawed wisdom at the trailhead.

“These Pacer Poles are a trip!”

At luncheon just off the summit. Change of clothes necessitated by the usual. It’s harder in the woods.

On the summit cairn. Jasper the Wonderdog occupies the shadow between H and me.

Personal Sherpa gently carries relaxed client back down the hill.

Our 4th

Didn’t we have a fine time Saturday—classically pleasant for us this year. Great weather—a real rarity this spring and summer. Good friends—the same we’ve spent this holiday with for years. Our annual reading of the Declaration, which sounded much better this year than last. And, of course, B’s first Independence Day.


There was much lolling about and inter-generation communing in the beautiful backyard where we gathered...



...along with the traditional imparting of ancient wisdom, unasked for, outdated, and utterly unneeded, yet politely received.


All this, plus good food, good drink, and good conversation. An afternoon like a deep breath of sweet fresh air.