I wish you a happy (and safe!) celebration of freedom and democracy. I hope your day includes a slightly blackened hot dog and a slice of watermelon -- or whatever food you enjoy on this holiday. (Hmm. I wonder if it's too late to start a 4th of July cheesecake tradition in my family?)
This fun fireworks page is perfect for celebrating the 4th of July or any other day. The sparks won't set any fires, and you control the show. (Thanks for sending the link, Gloria.)
My cousin Elaine sent an interesting link that's also appropriate for the holiday. It's the homepage of an Ames, Iowa artist whose ongoing project is Freedom Rock. At Memorial Day each year, he paints a new patriotic mural on the rock. It's quite impressive. To see ten years of murals, visit the link that's titled "The Rock."
My mother's cookouts
My mother loved to cook out on the 4th of July. When I was little we didn't have a barbecue grill, so Mama prevailed upon my dad every year to create a cooker with cement blocks and oven racks. Later on, I remember Mama cooking on an iron grill that my dad welded for her in his shop.
One 4th of July evening, I stepped on a hot rack that had been taken off one of Mama's outside cookers. It was twilight, and I was running around barefoot with my sparkler -- probably not a wise thing to do, all in all.
My mom coated the sole of my foot with slightly-beaten egg white. She had read that egg white was a good home remedy for burns.
The egg white must have worked because I honestly don't remember my foot hurting at all. It's likely that it was just a minor burn. I didn't like to wear shoes in the summer time, so my foot leather was pretty tough.
Love of country
Don't forget what we're celebrating on the 4th. It's a day to remember our national history and to show gratitude and respect for those who've worked and fought to keep our country free.
I don't express my love for the United States as often as I should. I remember the times I returned to the U.S. after many months of living elsewhere. I had a lump in my throat and tears of joy in my eyes when my feet touched American soil again. I do understand why people kiss the soil of their homeland when they return from their wanderings.