Fourth of July in Wellfleet
This year, I went to the Fourth of July parade in Wellfleet, Cape Cod. One family segment was with me (son, daughter-in-law, granddaughter). We each had mixed feelings about going – reluctance given horrendous grip of the current administration, why-should-I-care attitude, and reflections on the past and the present.
At the bicentennial parade fifty years ago, my two young sons and two nephews – ages eleven to six-and-a-half decided to walk in this historic procession. With pants tucked into their socks to look like britches, hand-made paper three-corner hats, flags with thirteen stars, a coffee-can drum, and a fife, they marched. So cute, so patriotic, so innocent.
I have a photo of these boys and a painting created by a local artist who thought these kids were an appropriate and emblematic display of what America – the land of the free – was all about.
I wondered what the 250th anniversary celebration would be like. As I watched, this parade seemed similar to the one so many years ago, except the trucks from the local landscaping companies were more massive. Stalwart, long-time local agencies and groups representing the arts, social services, and the environment were there. Musicians played on truck flat-beds. Antique car-horns beeped. Firefighters ensconced in their huge red engines threw candy to the children lining the route.
There were a few protest signs – save democracy; support Planned Parenthood, but mostly it evoked past attitudes: peace, joy, positivity. The parade personified a small town where the year-rounders know each other, local people serve on the library board, and people volunteer at the thrift shop whose proceeds help residents with food, housing, heat.
Reminders of the awful stuff happening in the country showed just a little. What did come out was a sense of community, the stalwart nature of this place, and a portrait of hope.
My July DOT is several things: showing up (at a parade), celebrating (the good in our country), and not letting tyranny dampen my spirits.
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