Today’s the fourth of July
Another June has gone by
And when they light up our town I just think
What a waste of gunpowder and sky
- "4th Of July," Aimee Mann

I'm not sure when it happened. It was probably some time in my teens when my friends included one with pyromaniacal tendencies such that he and another friend brought home dynamite purchased in Tijuana during spring break. Things exploding accompanied by colorful flashes, once an annual treat of controlled carnage for the senses, was reduced to a common weekend occurence.

Instead of fireworks being the focal point, the Fourth Of July had become a day of overt demonstrations of patriotism and weathermen assuring viewers that it wouldn't rain no matter which way the wind was actually blowing.

I can't say that I've ever felt truly patriotic, at least not in some palpable fashion akin to someone who's had an indescribable religious experience. Though, spiritual, I've struggled with the concept of God, too. If I was gay, I suppose I'd have hit the trifecta of evil incarnate to some people, although they likely would feel that two out of three wasn't bad (or, actually, it's bad enough).

A friend once accused me of hating America (and I'm deliberately using America here in reference to the United States). I calmly explained that I think there is a difference between the concept of America and the entity, a distinction that some "patriots" seem to have difficulty in making. The concept is brilliant. Truly. The execution, of late, has become a bit muddled and held hostage by portions of the population with their own agendas.

The patriotism I often observe seems to be underpinned by some zero-sum logic - if we are right, then everyone else must be wrong. To hear some people speak, one would almost believe that the people outside these borders are begrimed and oppressed, shackled and yolked with every breath taken under the ever-watching eyes of the nefarious and the godless. Some certainly are.

But, I've traveled the world and, surprisingly, there's an awful lot of people out there in other lands who go about there lives much as we do here in America. They shop. They get drunk and suffer hangovers. They enjoy their sports. They sing and dance. They do good things and they do bad. They bitch about their government and they bitch about the weather. They love their children. They're not much different from us aside from sometimes wearing unusual hats.

My paternal grandparents emmigrated here from Italy and, at least in my grandfather's family's case, I suspect they might have been asked to leave. I know that my great-grandfather had apparently been rather prosperous at one time growing olives. I've been told that the original spelling of our family name implies that there might have been nobility in my ancestry.

If great-grandfather hadn't been a dodgy character, perhaps I'd be an olive rancher right now, wearing a large, floppy hat and fretting over this year's crop. I'd be even more excited right now over the run Italy is making in the World Cup. These words, written in English, might make no sense to me.

Would my life be better or worse? I shrug. It very well would be appreciably neither, nothing more than different. I believe, though, that I'd still believe in the concept behind America. It would merely be accompanied by more pasta and more wine.

It's the Fourth Of July. Americans will celebrate with fireworks and shows of patriotism that, without ackowledgment of the concept behind the country, will be mostly just gunpowder and sky. It's the concept, though, that the true patriots have fought to defend, not a flag or the fanfare or even a geographic point on a map - the promise held by a concept that many people in many countries strive to fulfill in ways that might be slightly different but not truly that different at all.

Quick Reference To Barely Awake In Frog Pajamas' Blog