There Will be a Huge Birthday tomorrow here in America

sparkling 4th of July

sparkling 4th of July

Americans are getting ready today for our birthday. The day which we think about beaches, picnics, visiting friends who live far away. We buy sparklers, we make the deviled eggs, red, white and blue cakes. We get the grill out. There is baseball to be played as well as horseshoes, lots of cold drinks.
We have the privilege to celebrate our freedoms in our own country.

And we have gratitude that we must express to our Founding Fathers. Their decision that they must have freedom and a new country. How hard that must have been to be placed in the middle of a historic choice. Will you remain the English person you were born and raised to be or do you turn your back on your Mother Country. Do you stay neutral? Do you fight? This land was huge and mostly empty except for the few established colonies, the wild animals and the Native Indians.

We can almost hear the discussions in log cabins, at balls, and among neighbors. It took so much courage to pick your side. That courage would be tested by the ensuing war. A war fought by England’s well provisioned professional army.

For the people who chose the new country, most were farmers, not well-versed in combat or in possession of many guns. They often used their farm implements as weapons. They had no real uniforms, or boots and not many supplies.

They fought because they wanted freedom. Most people will fight for freedom, and Americans did. It wasn’t an easy accomplishment but we succeeded. So Happy Birthday America. I am proud to be an American.

I hear American Sing

“I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be
Blithe and strong.

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work.
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat,
The deckhand singing singing as he sits on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutters, the ploughboy’s on his way in
the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife
at work, or of the girl sewing or washing.
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day—at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

—–Walt Whitman
American poet


Celebrating the birth of a nation.

Celebrating the birth of a nation.