4th of July

 

The 4th of July. What a great summer holiday in the US, celebrating our revolutionary spirit with fireworks, cookouts and parades. Boston is called the “cradle of liberty” because so much of that revolutionary spirit was nurtured and demonstrated here. It was on this day in 1776 that our forefathers, regular guys like Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, who hated paying taxes to Mother England (simplified history book version), adopted the Declaration of Independence. George Washington wasn't there … he was getting ready to lead an army. And the rest is history.

David likes reading history. I'm more inclined to get his quick review of a book rather than plodding through the pages and then coax him into visiting places where historical events occurred. You can't beat Boston when it comes to historical places, many of which are associated with the Revolutionary War, the Spirit of 1776 and subsequently, the 4th of July. We visited Minuteman National Historic Park in Concord last summer … walking distance from Boston … for the Minutemen anyway. There's Bunker Hill Monument and the North Bridge, the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, the old North Church.

Typically, the big event in Boston is a concert by the Boston Pops Orchestra punctuated with synchronized fireworks and held on the Boston Esplanade on the banks of the Charles River on the evening of July 3rd. The traditional Boston Pops classic is the 1812 Overture (Hmm...the War of 1812 … yet another war with England...they're certainly persistent buggers) followed by a rousing version of Stars and Stripes forever.

We planned on attending a nearby fireworks display last night, but our energy dissipated before it was dark enough for the pyrotechnic display. We've had rain and thunderstorms for days now and the forecast for more kept us wimps in. So how are we celebrating the 4th? We'll fly the flag and maybe eat hotdogs and hamburgers while we watch The Patriot with Mel Gibson tonight. It's a reasonably good story, but not necessarily the way things happened. Whoever let the truth get in the way of a good story … or Mel Gibson?

We'll sing Yankee Doodle, too. Believe it or not, it's actually a Revolutionary War era song sung by the British soldiers making fun of the poorly armed and attired colonists whom they considered country bumpkins. Hmm … Guess we showed 'em!

Enjoy the 4th!

Summer Solstice

 

Today is Summer Solstice … June 21st, the advent of summer and the longest day of the year … if you're north of the equator, that is. For the folks down under, it's the shortest day of the year and winter sets in. I'm glad I'm in New England because summers here are absolutely grand.

We hear the local kids out early in the morning. The same kids that grouched about having to get up early for school are now up early without prodding and heading out for summer adventures. I remember early morning swimming lessons and running wild in our woodsy little neighborhood with an unparalleled freedom and feeling of abandon. Much like sailing, I'd say.

There are certain signs of summer that fill me with nostalgia. The musical sounds of the ice cream man as his truck wends its way through the neighborhood streets … usually just around dinner time to the dismay of parents. The kids clamber up to the truck with their nickels (that was when I was young), I mean dollars, and choose some mouth-watering delight from the smiling vendor's endless list of wonderful frozen novelties.

Beach chairs are set strategically at the ends of docks at freshwater beaches. Local ponds always have muddy bottoms and I used to hate it when my feet sank into the oozy, thick slime. Best to keep afloat as long as you could. The swimming pools have opened and soon they'll be swarmed as the temperatures continue their upward trend … at last.

Carnivals, sponsored by the local Lion's Club or the Rotary or the Elks, come to town. I like to watch the amusements, but we're not inclined to jump on board any rides that swirl you in the air upside down, then jerk you around precariously. We've watched how fast the carnies set up these rides and it doesn't provide too much confidence. Not to mention, I'm really a carousel kind of girl.

Long summer days here are characterized by sweating, the sound of June bugs and cicadas and spacious blue skies often darkened by late afternoon thunderstorms. Warm, humid nights bring fireflies and the sounds of owls hooting nearby. Though we wish were back aboard Nine of Cups, perhaps experiencing a long awaited New England summer beats living aboard through a cold, wet winter in South Australia.

Happy Flag Day!

 

It's Flag Day in the USA, a day to fly the flag and be particularly patriotic. The day commemorates the signing of the Flag Resolution of 1777: “Resolved, That the flag of the United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new Constellation.”

Some non-American folks we've met, make fun of Americans because of our fierce patriotism. I'm not sure why more folks aren't patriotic about their countries, but for sure, we Americans are. We take their jibes and jests in stride because we're definitely sentimental when it comes to the good old US of A. No amount of kidding will change that.

We still get lumps in our throats when we stand to sing the National Anthem... “Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave?” (lump in throat occurs here). As much as we love traveling, there's always a kind of sweet feeling when we arrive back in the States and step on home turf after a long period away.

Probably the most poignant moment on Nine of Cups was sailing through New York Harbor past the Statue of Liberty just after 9-11. The Twin Towers were conspicuous by their absence, the smoldering remnants at Ground Zero, a painful reminder of the events which had occurred only a couple of weeks prior.

We spent Flag Day 2012 at Mount Rushmore National Monument when, only by chance, we had the opportunity and privilege to witness 113 people from around the world become U.S. Citizens. What an exciting and emotional day for them and for their enthusiastic audience.

Part of flag etiquette on a boat is to hoist the flag of the host nation on our starboard flag halyard when we arrive in a new country. It remains flying while we're there. Our American flag always flies aft on the starboard stay. The wind and weather play havoc with the flag and many times, the tattered stripes get clipped off and the fly end restitched over and over again until the stripes are nearly gone.

My father was a veteran of WWII and my Mom was presented with an American flag at graveside when he was buried. We have that flag aboard and though it's huge, it gets a workout on US national holidays, no matter where we are.