That’s how Stephen described the patriotic vibe (or lack thereof) during our 4th of July outing on Wednesday. Sure, that sounds somber, but let me paint the picture.
On 7/3, the boys and I talked about the word of the day (independence) and finished up a short, but thorough children’s book about early American history, the increasingly tenuous relationship between the colonists and King George, and the writing of Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration.
Stormtroopers are much friendlier when they’re fictional Star Wars goons, as opposed to modern-day “shock troops.” (Click to see Free Comic Book Day fun.)
As I stumbled out of bed on 7/4, Stephen greeted me with info about an article he read regarding a DHS-funded study. In it, the research describes people who are “reverent of individual liberty” as possible homegrown terrorists.
Perhaps some government bureaucrat in a windowless office in D.C. has already put me on a rightwing watch list for being a gun-owning, homeschooling Christian, but c’mon. Must I really worship at the altar of the collective to now be deemed a law-abiding citizen?
Like any good rugged American, I forged through my morning funk. The boys colored printables of Betsy Ross flags and I began reading the actual Declaration, pausing often to take questions and explain concepts in kid-friendly terms.
Daddy and I took the 3 Amigos to Guilford Courthouse National Military Park for the day’s celebrations. In spite of lively music by the fife and drums corps, an invocation by the Daughters of the American Revolution, a memorial for the three North Carolina Signers, a musket-firing salute and a canon demonstration, it was gravely noticeable how few people were there.
Gabriel thinks that perhaps government-mandated healthcare will be worth the wait if he gets a super-villainness hotty like Harley Quinn as his nurse.
We then walked to the visitors’ center, where Houston and I signed our surname with a quill pen to a reproduction of the Declaration. As we checked out stuff in the book store, Stephen spotted a tome edited by socialist extraordinaire Howard Zinn.
See, Zinn is commonly requisite reading for freshman at liberal arts colleges. He is considered a god among progressives, and made a career of bashing the free market, capitalism and individualism.
Zinn’s forte was claiming to question the status quo, while simultaneously working as an active part of it … or to speak for the little guy, while subsequently trying to silence him through mob rule. This was the nail in the coffin: our celebratory fervor was blown. Thanks, tax-payer-supported bookstore.
But for the grace of God, Stephen and I remained fairly chipper for the kids. After our history-appreciation jaunt, we let the boys get some energy out at a playground before feasting on a dinner of Mexican fare. (Hey, at least at the restaurant we were hanging out with patriots, some of whom were loyal to their motherland and some to mine, but who’s counting?)
Zeke’s either bummed out from the heat or because the treacherous sorcerer Loki plans to subjugate planet earth.
So, Stephen and I decided that unless more folks awake to the American ideal, we’ll be donning black next July 4. We’ll be mourning the dying principles that helped create the freest country on earth and praying forgiveness of the brilliant and brave who pledged their lives, fortunes and sacred honor to birth the greatest experiment in human liberty ever known to mankind.
Having had some time to reflect on it all, I know that God has a plan. So, I put my faith wholly in Him, not government. I am endowed by Him with certain inalienable rights and government is only supposed to be the protector of those. Should government ever fully forfeit its responsibility, my God-given rights still remain.
If that sounds unorthodox, unconventional or unpopular, I guess I’m proudly letting my freak flag fly. Hell, if David Crosby can do it (four decades ago), so can I. Ever the rebels we shall be.