The Fifth

I was born on the 5^th of July, 13 minutes after midnight under a full moon in mid-century America. You can't get more middle than me. Middle of the boomers, middle of the fifties. Just wishing I was born in the middle of nowhere.

You hear sometimes about how it sucks for people born too close to Christmas... let me tell you how glorious it is to be born too close to the Fourth of July. It was before we all were all broken in half, which was something that had to happen in the natural course of the human existence. WWII ended after two of my siblings were born. My oldest sister was old enough to remember preparing for possible invasion because Nazi U-Boats were off of Long Island. Most people don't realize they sank a tanker near Montauk Point in 1942 and subs were off the south shore in wait. What I'm trying to say is that the stars gave us a break for a few years.**

We usually went to my older sister's house for the Fourth. She lived further away from the city and sometimes we'd take the drive out to Fire Island to get a little ocean air. That was the cure all in my family for everything. Breathe in the salt, walk in the sand. Cuts and bruises? Get in the water. Dig with your shovel looking for shells and clams. I had no fear of getting pulled by the undertow, always getting yelled at by my sister and nieces to come back. The worriest of warts, except for my parents. They lived through enough that they let it all fly. Are we knocked out enough yet? No, but time for the celebrations to begin.

Is everybody in?

The ceremony is about to begin.

- Jim Morrison

My sister married a Korean War vet, but later admitting she was more suited to being a full-fledged beatnik. We got along well. Always joking and laughing. I'm pretty sure Bob worked in a supply unit. Very popular with the other GI's. He'd get busy drinking a few Schlitz's and firing up the charcoal grill. Always delicious Shish Kabob, I can smell those onions and peppers now. Hamburgers, potatoes and onions wrapped in tin foil, and cherry tomatoes. A big baking dish of homemade barbecue beans. A giant pyrex bowl of homemade potato salad. Corn on the cob. So delicious but the real fun was to come. Sometimes after dark we'd drive a few blocks to get a better view of fireworks. My two nieces were almost my age, the oldest just a couple of years younger. Different colors lit the sky as we watched in wonder. Everyone applauded. If you wanted to see and hear, you just had to be there. I thought it was the greatest thing that so many people were so happy for my birthday. I didn't even care about my birthday, it was just great that so many happy people got together.

Back at the house the sparklers came out. This was the suburbs and these people were law abiding citizens. That's as wild as the contraband got. It wasn't until later in life that I understood the pure joy of loud explosions. Very freeing, so rebellious. (Colorado. They have real fireworks here? Yeah, everyone brings it illegally across the border from Wyoming. Wow.) Loved the smell and we always tested our fortitude by putting our fingers in the burning sparks. Here comes my birthday cake, white homemade frosting with “Happy Birthday” in red and blue. I didn't even care it was my birthday, everyone was happy. Scenario one.

Other times the Fourth was at my parent's home. A little more sedate, a few more cocktails but the charcoal was always lit. Pretty much the same delicious food, but I got to show my nieces around the neighborhood. Hanging from the branches of the trees out front or a walk to the creek. Once again I'd hear “Don't go in the water!” Maybe on the way back I'd teach them how to have a few words with the bratty boys in the neighborhood. I never ran from those bullies. They got a little of what was coming to 'em. After food, in the early years, we'd get in the car and drive to Long Beach. It was still a fine city then. There are reasons I won't go into now, this is an upbeat memory. We'd find our spot on the boardwalk (which I hear was destroyed in Hurricane Sandy... now rebuilt but with less charm) and wait for the fireworks. I don't recall any problems with any humans. Everyone, once again, was very happy. I sincerely was a very aware child. I would have noticed.

So basically, I wanted to write this was to say just a few simple things. To say we can all be down in the dumps sometimes, but we can be happy too. And that life can be beautiful. And the best way to be happy is to love your neighbor. It's hard for people not to love you back if you send out love. We can all be proud of the moments that we have come together.

I keep trying. 🤷

** Yes, I know it wasn't a bed of roses for everyone. I know personally. It feels wrong to even mention this. But from a child's point of view I wore the rosiest glasses during my most innocent time. And that is a wonderful thing.