Our local daily newspaper printed the entire Declaration of Independence in this morning’s edition. I didn’t read it again yet appreciate the gesture.
Even though “men” were “white men” in the document, and slaves, indigenous people, and women were not included in the lofty talk about “the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and Nature’s God entitle them,” the document served to change the course of human events and resulted in the United States of America. It was a radical beginning, one whose promise has not been fulfilled by 2023, if it ever will be.
I am restless about it no more, as instead of turning in my bed while the sound of fireworks ignited near the lake last night, I slept straight through. I have come to terms with American’s many imperfections and focus on making my small corner of it more tolerant and diverse.
Our local food bank was closed for donations on the third, so I found another food bank that could take a large box of cucumbers and zucchini. I had planned to make and can pickles this year but our inventory from previous years is strong. I decided to eat from previously canned pickles for another year, and that created an excess of pickling cucumbers. As I drove across the lake to deliver them in North Liberty, the wakes of pleasure boats were evident on most parts of the surface. The Independence Day weekend was in its full bustle. The food bank appreciated the donation.
We found a water line break on the main entry road to our development. I spent Monday morning coordinating communication with members while the repair was effected. Partly, it is a thing for septuagenarian men to gather at construction events in the neighborhood to “watch.” Partly, as outgoing board president I wanted to make sure the well was turned off and back on in a way that minimized contamination of the water system. Things went well and I felt good about one of my last actions as board president.
We don’t celebrate Independence Day in our household. In the pantheon of annual holidays, it ranks second behind Memorial Day.
Based on what’s in the garden and refrigerator, we’ll be eating one of ten kinds of leafy green vegetables for dinner. That and other dishes as yet unknown. I’ll dig the first garlic plant to see where we are. It has to be close to harvest, so on my to-do list is preparing the garlic rack. Today’s to-do list is long.
Spring has turned to summer and with forecast ambient temperatures above 90 degrees today, I plan to spend the afternoon indoors. I will be cooking, reading, writing, and noting my independence from the tyranny of cultural traditions surrounding our nation’s birth.
As Robert Browning wrote, “God’s in his Heaven, all’s right with the world.” Or so we convince ourselves to believe when the holidays arrive.
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