Photo by Shiva Shenoy
I spent it in a friend's backyard with a pool, plenty of sun and copious amounts of beer. There were friends, burgers and fireworks. At some point during the day, I drank 250 shots, one for every year of American independence.
Obviously, that isn't true.
It was 249. I'm not reckless.
Joking aside, there was something unusual about being back as the United States marked its 250th anniversary. I had lived here before, spent 15 years away and returned just in time for a birthday that required an alarming amount of bunting.
The celebration was the biggest and the greatest Fourth of July celebration ever held anywhere in the world. Nobody had seen anything like it. Other celebrations were frankly embarrassed.
This entirely impartial assessment was conducted by me, from inside the pool, after several beers.
Still, it felt bigger than the Fourth of July celebrations I remembered.
Part of that was the anniversary. Two hundred and fifty years is a respectable age for a country, especially one that remains so enthusiastic about setting fire to things in its own backyard.
That enthusiasm began early.
On the first anniversary of independence in 1777, ships on the Delaware River fired thirteen-gun salutes in honor of the thirteen states. Bells rang throughout the day, bonfires were lit in the streets and fireworks were set off after dark. Even the fireworks display began and ended with thirteen rockets. John Adams walked through Philadelphia that evening and found candles burning in windows across the city.
The pool and burger appear to have been later additions.
The basic arrangement has survived remarkably well. Gather people together, provide food and drink, then introduce explosives once darkness falls. America established the format early and has shown little interest in revising it.
For me, most of the day was more personal.
During the years I was away, I had missed the people. I had missed the weather and the opportunities America offered. Returning had involved decisions, paperwork and the practical business of rebuilding a life here. The Fourth of July was one of the first occasions when I stopped thinking about the process of coming back and simply enjoyed being back.
The afternoon involved friends, sunshine and more beer than would normally be included in a responsible account of a regular month. Eventually, the fireworks began and the country's 250th birthday continued much as its first had: with people gathering outside and launching explosives into the sky.
At some point, I found myself lying in the pool with a beer in one hand and a burger in the other.
I knew I was back.
Have fun. Go wild.
Jack
