The 4th of July is not the beginning or end of summer. It is not really the middle either. It is towards the end of real green. It is warm days, cool nights and dry here in Colorado. It is skies packed with more stars than the ipad app of the night. It is pitching baseball after baseball after baseball until the balls finally start sailing over my head.
It is hard to work in summer. The long days don’t define work and it is never really dark enough to sleep. Deer rest by the bikes under the deck. Corn silk is littered all around the grill. Clothing is optional.
Generally on the 4th I sing George M. Cohan’s anthem to my boys, like my father did on the 4th ( although I think my father was thinking James Cagney’s version rather than the real Cohan.) I remember holding Jackson under a huge flag in the park in Maplewood teaching him the lyrics.
This morning I was thinking about the young firefighters in Arizona. Everytime I read about someone dying - especially that young - I think, “that is all you get.” They were strong soldiers fighting a fight I can understand - though in the next breath the news talked about the climate changing, and all of us are driving what is terrorizing the weather.
Always thinking about Woody Guthrie and Louis Armstrong on the 4th. Louis because he claimed he was born on the 4th of July, 1900 (though probably not born that day I will give it to him anyway and listen to “Weatherbird” with awe - all that magic he made in that crazy duet with Earl Hines).
Woody Guthrie - the most patriotic american I ever knew. We all have our gifts. His was not being a great father or husband, but he shared a view of this country that was true and benevolent and inspired. “This Land is Your Land” came on in the house this morning. These lyrics stopped everything we were doing :
In the shadow of the steeple
I saw my people
At the relief office
I seen my people
As they stood there hungry
I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?
Nobody living can ever stop me
As I go walking that freedom highway
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.
In Boulder we are eating like kings. Farm to table. Organic. Gluten free.
Food of the gods. Until they start chewing for us, too - I am happy food is honored and respected and grown with such passion. I wish everyone was able to sit at these tables.
In Lincoln, Nebraska this spring I went to a high school where they spoke 22 languages. In LINCOLN, NEBRASKA! The school was a miracle of a tight community with open hearts. Unemployment was low, but many were working poor and could barely afford food. The children were fed during the week at school, and then sent home for the weekend with knapsacks full of food to get them through the weekend. There was no ridicule. There was just a sense of people helping each other. In the 4th grade class everyone was reading over 100 words a minute. The bright strong eyes of the teacher taught as much as the books.
We have talked about that school alot in the weeks since I was there. The boys sent their lemonade stand money there. I am sending these Woody Guthrie lyrics out there today for them. In shadow of this magnificent land here in Colorado. In the plains between the mountains.
We are turning off our screens, pulling over on the side of the road and feeling, for a moment, small and timeless under a bright blue sky bigger than the ocean. We are holding each other and letting time stop, even for a brief moment. We all get alittle more time, which means we can sit still and live large and love each other even more....and not stop walking.
I am going to sandwich this post of July 4th reflection with a new song (When I A Fire Starts to Burn) I heard yesterday from a band of brothers ( Guy and Howard Lawrence) in the UK. Check out that video!
And a series of pictures from my family over the last couple of days.
Happy 4th all.