I am sitting on my patio with a small American flag, propped up in a rusty coffee can, waving over the patio table. That’s as far as I am going to go in celebrating Independence Day, this year. Some would say that I don’t love the USA enough to celebrate. Truth is, I love the USA too much to celebrate.
I will not celebrate imprisoning children, under deplorable conditions, in concentration camps.
I will not celebrate a buffoonish, narcissistic, man-child-would-be dictator glorifying himself at public expense.
I will not celebrate millionaire CEO’s when the very workers giving them their largesse struggle to survive, let alone pursue happiness.
The Founding Fathers would be horrified at America as it is today. They would say (in modern English): “This is exactly what we tried to protect you idiots from. WTF? Get your act together and get back on track!”
I was born in Grand Island, Nebraska in 1958. My first memories are of the Cuban missile crisis and the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. I was a teenager during Watergate. I remember 9/11 as if it happened yesterday. But I have never seen a greater threat to our democracy, or more of a constitutional crisis, than we have today.
So, no fireworks for me. I will not walk around the block after dark to see what my neighbors are shooting off, as I usually do. I do not wish to participate in a celebration of America, when everything I believe to be truly American is under attack.
The flag in the coffee can is not a capitulation. It is a reminder to me of America, the real America, and real American values, versus the Trump-era violation of everything decent that America is to me.