In which we celebrate our freedoms
July 4, 2006.
Chris had to work of course, so Mother and Evan and I spent most of the day together. We hung flags at mid-morning, and then I went to the grocery store for the makings of a holiday dinner.
I'd decided on kabobs, corn on the cob and a red, white, and blue fruit pizza for dessert. We used sirloin steaks and chicken breasts cubed. The meat was marinated for two hours in olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and fresh oregano. The oregano was tricky to find, wedged between melissa and sage, both of which seem intent upon taking over the garden. We skewered the meat with red, green, yellow, and orange peppers, Vidalia onions, and Flavorino tomatoes halved. I basted the kabobs with the marinade while they were grilling. Although we forgot the corn, we served the kabobs with a grand tossed salad.
The fruit pizza is a large sugar cookie made to the size of a pizza pan. We used Toll House sugar cookie dough. Once baked, it's "sauced" with a block of softened cream cheese to which sugar, vanilla and a little lemon juice is added. Then slices of strawberries and bananas are arranged on it with blueberries. You can use any fruits, but the red-white-blue theme seemed appropriate for the day.
We had Copeland, Sousa, and the 1812 Overture (which isn't about the War of 1812, by the way) for dinner music. After supper, we lingered a bit over the pizza, watching TV and doing a little holiday-related web surfing. We quickly turned our attention to the weather, as the skies darkened prematurely.
Chris and I lived in Kansas long enough that we tend to look for bad weather rather than hide from it in the basement. I noticed quite a lot of rotation in the clouds, although there was nothing organized enough to mean anything of significance. Chris, who had ducked back inside, then came out to announce that a tornado warning had been posted for central Arapaho county, which is of course miles and miles east of us. Besides, no sirens had sounded. (We live in Arapaho county, but it's so long east to west that saying that someone or some thing is in the county is rather meaningless as far as pinpointing a location.) Nevertheless, the rain had set in behind the storm.
We had decided on Highlands Ranch's show, which happened to be very near the Tattered Cover - and instant bennie for us book-o-philes. Chris and I seem to be grabbing on to any occasion to "dress up" and so after a quick shower (the lightening strikes illuminating the bathroom were motivational) I donned a long black skirt, black camisole and shrug, and my new top hat. Chris wore his top hat with his Father's Day black dress shirt and silver spider cufflinks. (I'll post pics later.) Without a lot of confidence that the rain would cease, we made a valiant effort to get to the fireworks show. Alas, the rain proved to be too much, and the crowd was sent home to return the following night when the weather would hopefully be better.
There were sucessful displays that night; we could see them from the hilltop cemetary near our house. We viewed the displays from that vantage point last year, but the "overview" isn't very satisfying to me; I want to have the 'works over head, huge and loud!
Independence Day is a deeply moving holiday for me. I am painfully reminded that our freedoms (at least the ones we're supposed to have) came with the price of blood, that those lives were given in a love of Country - our culture, beliefs, and heritage - rather than in support of a government of questionable morality. This in part defines me as a patriot rather than a nationalist. As a patriot I hold very dear the notion that dissent is one of the great strengths of our county's people. It was dissent that sparked the American Revolution; it is dissent (and a nominally free press) that creates change and reveals and opposes the corruption, cronyism, and hypocracy of Government. Never before in my adult life has this seemed more vital nor more precious to me. Certainly that is due to the current administration, but also to my concerns for the future as a parent.
I had a tough time talking through the emotion when we were hanging the flags on Tuesday. As a parent I wanted to communicate to Evan how very important this all is; why we respect the flag as a symbol of our heritage, and what "freedom" means. Later, under clear skies Wednesday night under the "rockets' red glare" (ok, they're mortars nowadays), I'm choked up with the depth of emotion. "The Star Spangled Banner" does it; "America the Beautiful" does it, even with the Christian notion of God's grace; "The Grand Old Flag" does it - heck, even the "1812 Overture" does it; it's about war and love of Country prevailing over agression, after all.
I suppose the freedom to dissent from the sartorial norms of one of the most affluent areas of the state spoke volumes about the Bays family's attitudes about the holiday. In a development like Highlands Ranch - which actually elected Tom Tancredo to office - the formality of our attire in respect of the day was in marked contrast to the informality of the attire of most of the rest of the crowd. Teeny-boppers, Biffs and Buffys, people to whom success is a right rather than an accomplishment, and those who wear the flag as a symbol of inclusion likely sat down that night to see a good show. I went because to feel the "bombs bursting in air" provides a visceral understanding of what a life is worth.
Besides, I really like the sparklies.
Chris had to work of course, so Mother and Evan and I spent most of the day together. We hung flags at mid-morning, and then I went to the grocery store for the makings of a holiday dinner.
I'd decided on kabobs, corn on the cob and a red, white, and blue fruit pizza for dessert. We used sirloin steaks and chicken breasts cubed. The meat was marinated for two hours in olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and fresh oregano. The oregano was tricky to find, wedged between melissa and sage, both of which seem intent upon taking over the garden. We skewered the meat with red, green, yellow, and orange peppers, Vidalia onions, and Flavorino tomatoes halved. I basted the kabobs with the marinade while they were grilling. Although we forgot the corn, we served the kabobs with a grand tossed salad.
The fruit pizza is a large sugar cookie made to the size of a pizza pan. We used Toll House sugar cookie dough. Once baked, it's "sauced" with a block of softened cream cheese to which sugar, vanilla and a little lemon juice is added. Then slices of strawberries and bananas are arranged on it with blueberries. You can use any fruits, but the red-white-blue theme seemed appropriate for the day.
We had Copeland, Sousa, and the 1812 Overture (which isn't about the War of 1812, by the way) for dinner music. After supper, we lingered a bit over the pizza, watching TV and doing a little holiday-related web surfing. We quickly turned our attention to the weather, as the skies darkened prematurely.
Chris and I lived in Kansas long enough that we tend to look for bad weather rather than hide from it in the basement. I noticed quite a lot of rotation in the clouds, although there was nothing organized enough to mean anything of significance. Chris, who had ducked back inside, then came out to announce that a tornado warning had been posted for central Arapaho county, which is of course miles and miles east of us. Besides, no sirens had sounded. (We live in Arapaho county, but it's so long east to west that saying that someone or some thing is in the county is rather meaningless as far as pinpointing a location.) Nevertheless, the rain had set in behind the storm.
We had decided on Highlands Ranch's show, which happened to be very near the Tattered Cover - and instant bennie for us book-o-philes. Chris and I seem to be grabbing on to any occasion to "dress up" and so after a quick shower (the lightening strikes illuminating the bathroom were motivational) I donned a long black skirt, black camisole and shrug, and my new top hat. Chris wore his top hat with his Father's Day black dress shirt and silver spider cufflinks. (I'll post pics later.) Without a lot of confidence that the rain would cease, we made a valiant effort to get to the fireworks show. Alas, the rain proved to be too much, and the crowd was sent home to return the following night when the weather would hopefully be better.
There were sucessful displays that night; we could see them from the hilltop cemetary near our house. We viewed the displays from that vantage point last year, but the "overview" isn't very satisfying to me; I want to have the 'works over head, huge and loud!
Independence Day is a deeply moving holiday for me. I am painfully reminded that our freedoms (at least the ones we're supposed to have) came with the price of blood, that those lives were given in a love of Country - our culture, beliefs, and heritage - rather than in support of a government of questionable morality. This in part defines me as a patriot rather than a nationalist. As a patriot I hold very dear the notion that dissent is one of the great strengths of our county's people. It was dissent that sparked the American Revolution; it is dissent (and a nominally free press) that creates change and reveals and opposes the corruption, cronyism, and hypocracy of Government. Never before in my adult life has this seemed more vital nor more precious to me. Certainly that is due to the current administration, but also to my concerns for the future as a parent.
I had a tough time talking through the emotion when we were hanging the flags on Tuesday. As a parent I wanted to communicate to Evan how very important this all is; why we respect the flag as a symbol of our heritage, and what "freedom" means. Later, under clear skies Wednesday night under the "rockets' red glare" (ok, they're mortars nowadays), I'm choked up with the depth of emotion. "The Star Spangled Banner" does it; "America the Beautiful" does it, even with the Christian notion of God's grace; "The Grand Old Flag" does it - heck, even the "1812 Overture" does it; it's about war and love of Country prevailing over agression, after all.
I suppose the freedom to dissent from the sartorial norms of one of the most affluent areas of the state spoke volumes about the Bays family's attitudes about the holiday. In a development like Highlands Ranch - which actually elected Tom Tancredo to office - the formality of our attire in respect of the day was in marked contrast to the informality of the attire of most of the rest of the crowd. Teeny-boppers, Biffs and Buffys, people to whom success is a right rather than an accomplishment, and those who wear the flag as a symbol of inclusion likely sat down that night to see a good show. I went because to feel the "bombs bursting in air" provides a visceral understanding of what a life is worth.
Besides, I really like the sparklies.
posted by Melanie Unruh-Bays at
3:32 PM
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