When I think about America I think of kites on the wind; a sunny Southern California day with just the wisps of clouds on the horizon.
I think of county fairs that actually have cattle , pigs, real live stock. I think of a baby Clydesdale all legs and tufts of fur on his wobbly legs, starring at me through the slits of a fence.
I think of funnel cakes and days spent high above this small town on a Ferris wheel.
I think of this small town I was raised in and millions of small towns just like it across this land.
The Fourth of July is that hot, humid day in July every year when all Americans remember for just one day that they are patriotic, even as they are grilling their vegan burgers and driving their Prius (s)
To me, The Fourth of July means it time to be just a little more patriotic than normal, and put a stick on flag tattoo on my calve. Some go all out and get something like solar powered flagpole lighting to really show their patriotism.
The fourth of July is the smell of bbq’s and sunscreen. At my house it’s meat sizzling on the grill and corn on the cob waiting to be stuck in my teeth for hours.
The Fourth of July is the only time a year, in California, that my God Bless America ring tone doesn’t get dirty looks thrown my way in Target.
Today, it would seem, for just one day, we are all proud to be Americans.
