Fireworks and tanks make for a hot 4th of July. Spend some time in a tank in July or send off one of the largest fireworks displays in history ( I didn’t count the bangs. ), and you’ll be looking for a swimming pool and cold one.
Of course, not everyone in America was enamored with the hardware display. I heard that without the right ticket, you couldn't get close to those high powered steam rooms anyway. Oh well, the fireworks topped Disney and Paul McCartney, which accomplished the one-ups-manship and gave everyone something to gasp about.
A preacher whom I highly respect asked, (paraphrase) ‘How can America party down and pretend like everything is great, when it fact it isn’t.’ Preachers, at least some, have problems with locked up kids and unsanitary conditions, and asylum seekers being lumped into the same category as “rapist and murderers,” but, you’ve heard all that before and will undoubtedly hear it again from multiple sources.
For me, the American phenom worth celebrating is the tradition of standing together when all manner of adversary, either physical or rhetorical, attempts to send us to our respective corners. The song, Next To You, which I am going to share, says “when love returns and the lessons are learned, I’ll be next to you.”
I’m celebrating 50 years of music in some form or another, and still growing. America is way older than me and, guess what, still growing. The divisive pain felt now in most corners of America would make any birth duola squirm. Next To You was written in the tradition of the verses to This Land Is Your Land that you’ve probably never heard, i.e.,
‘How can America party down and pretend like everything is great, when it fact it isn’t.’
Here’s the good news. It will be again. And you know what else? I’ll be Next To You.