Saturday, July 11, 2015

The 4th

This 4th, my friends, was a rough one. 

We did nothing.  It’s OK.  I live in a town that DOES NOT HAVE a parade.  The first 36 years of my life I have lived in a town with a  parade.  It is what you do.  Seriously it is what you do.  How do these people cope?

Anyway, my memories of the 4th are fun.  There are a lot of Dad / Grandpa memories. He would go in and drive a shift at midnight and come home at 6am and I'd let him in (my room was closest to the front door). He would nap on the couch while we got ready and then we would go to the parade in Hinsdale and see relatives. Lastly there was a family reunion in the afternoon.

(No amount of my mother's dysfunction can stop these from being good memories and I assure you she really had a hard time with the 4th. Loud noises and her did not mix well. Add in visiting in-laws and you get the idea.  That women was seriously full of hatred and no one quite knows why.)

As an adult, all that changed was that the party moved to Kim's. We still watched the parade, albeit in Brookfield, and Dad wasn't driving any more. But we still loved and enjoyed that day.  Kim lived for years on the parade route; that is the way to go!  She currently lives around the corner from it, so viewing at her house is still pretty darn awesome.

Last year we were traveling for the 4th, so it didn’t have time to sink in.  This year it did.  This was the 4th of grief, as odd as that may sound.  I just could not get into it.  I went and bought flag shirts, I made cole slaw and burgers.  But I had no desire to see fireworks or leave my home.  Not this year.

Next year, the 4th is a Monday, which is always a drag.  However, it should be better.  I will remember to get shirts a bit earlier.  I will plan a parade event.  I will make sure there’s ice cream for viewing fireworks.  And I will leave my house.