‘Well, we have arrived at another 4th without firecrackers,’ Chet said. ‘Earl was going to procure some legal firecrackers from Missouri, but he did not get there in time,’ Chet continued. ‘I suppose we will have to visit the creepy man in the alley behind Western Auto to see if he has any illegal cherry bombs,’ Chet winked. I hear that he is a graduate of MIT and that he makes his own fireworks,’ Chet continued. ‘He also has Black Cat firecrackers,’ Chet grinned. ‘At times he has Chocola for sale, and at other times he has Peppermint Schnaps,’ Chet explained. ‘I bought some Charles Denby cigars from him last 4th, Chet laughed. ‘He is a knight of the open road,’ Chet offered. ‘He told me last 4th of July that he had a special Bottle Rocket that would fly me to the Moon if I wanted to try it,’ Chet winked.

‘Let’s cut to the chase,’ Billy B said to the man with the trench coat in July. ‘I hear you have a Bottle Rocket that really is a Rocket,’ Billy B continued. ‘What do you require for me to buy one from you?’ Billy B asked with a wink. ‘I have been saving my money since Christmas for the possibility of riding a Bottle Rocket to the Moon,’ Billy B danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Do not trifle with me, as I am a serious man,’ Billy B admonished. ‘I am plannin on wearing my Zane Grey cowboy hat on the ride,’ Billy B said.

‘I will give you the Moon Bottle Rocket if you will smoke a Charles Denby Cigar on the flight, as I work for the Charles Denby Cigar manufacturer, Trenchcoat Man said with a sly grin. ‘I have a photographer with me who works for Life Magazine who will do a photo spread of

your amazing journey,’ TM noted.

The Old Man looked out at Brooks Pond. The Writing Porch had been his peaceful place for many years. The air was still, the heat oppressive. Tomorrow is the big birthday. Is it 250, just getting started, or 250 and the end is coming?

We celebrate who we are and what we have done. We telegraph our accomplishments far and wide.

‘Once I built a railroad, made it run. Made it race against time. Once I built a railroad, now it’s done, Brother can you spare a dime.’

The song of the forgotten who built this country only to stand in bread lines in the Great Depression. They were wondering and waiting for their country to see them.

Mylo likes his ears tickled. We like our ears tickled. We want to hear words that agree with our thoughts. Who will tell us what we want to hear? We are a bit transfixed on our Idols. The human that surpasses other humans. The human with the special ability. Reading the stories of God’s prophets, we wonder and wait for our prophets. Surely we must be as blessed as the people of the Book. It is easy to make the Bible say what you want it to say.

It is getting hotter around the world. Global Warming is not a hypothesis; it is a fact. We make light of what we do not understand.

Christ stood with those who had no friends. He spoke for those who had no voice. Jesus could be found with the people that the Pharisees walked to the other side of the street to avoid. He had dinner with the shunned of the world. Those not seen by polite society. The Forgotten were his friends.

All that glitters is not gold, but then again we like gold. A physical sign of prominence. Sometimes gold can hide our shame. Gold appliques on the Oval Office walls. Well-off folks give millions of dollars to see their name on University Buildings. Something that says they were there when they are not.

Is the patient on life support?

The Old Man watched as many gathered their money around them. They stared glassy-eyed at a golden statue. Many prayed at the beautiful feet of the Statue. Tears were shed and supplications offered. The diverse workforce of the country was busy working double shifts to keep body and soul together.

Annabell had a little replica of the Statue of Liberty she kept in her locker at work. She purchased it at a gift store in New York City many years ago. It reminded her of the blessings of living in America. Annabell’s family had been hunted in Haiti. The United States welcomed her, and she became a citizen over time.

We are in a heat dome. Not the kind of dome you want to be in. I never liked hot weather, and as an old guy, I like it less. Most things are harder in the heat. The 4th is with us. Firecrackers are on the shelves at Sam’s, and Salameats are flying off the shelves. Our Weber Kettle Grill has a new grate. We have plenty of Coke Zero to get us through. We are 250 this year. There are only a few generations between us and the beginning.

Liminal Photography has taken off like a duck out of water. Much to the success of Backrooms. Liminal spaces are all around us. More and more as the economy changes. At university, I noticed that throughout my career, liminal spaces were part of the architect’s plan. Lonely spaces with no evident usage or patrons. Life is full of liminal spaces. We find ourselves in halls that go on forever. Halls that branch off into other halls. Rooms that connect to other rooms, and so it goes. Stairs with massive foyers and dead space. Rooms that have been forgotten for generations.

We love a birthday party. There will be cake and ice cream. Flags and balloons. Boats will be on the water. People hooping and hollering and bronzing in the sun. The alcohol will flow as the burgers and brats turn. Some will think of the exclusive club they belong to. America for Americans. Christ has taken a liking to white folks. They give good donations and buy great Christmas gifts. They do not worry about money and make sure their pastor does not have to worry about it either. ‘Jesus threw the money changers out of the temple,’ the white Christians say. ‘Christ knows if you are one of the good guys by the color of your eyes,’ WCs say as they pop another top.

The poor of the land sit on their fire escape and watch the fireworks with their kids on their laps. They have tears in their eyes as they ponder why they have to work twice as hard to demonstrate they are worthy of the country they love and die for. Segregation called it separate but equal…so it goes, except for the equal.

It was on this day in the 1960s that I realized that summer vacation was slipping away. Not only was summer holiday moving forward rapidly, but so was the year. Although it was hot and muggy, Christmas Bells would soon be ringing. Climbing to the halfway mark of the year was slower than the descent to the conclusion. July was just four weeks away from August, when the back-to-school specials were advertised. It was time to get the new school supplies. I had a desk whose writing surface lifted to reveal a private compartment for your precious and necessary materials. Often the desks had dry inkwells hearkening to a time before. It was hot mid-August when we returned to the classroom. Summer had another month on the calendar. In the blink of an eye, we were making witches and ghosts for the bulletin board. Of course, the rest is simply a hay ride to a turkey dinner and a sleigh ride back home.

Grandma A’s front porch was the perfect spot to view the fireworks at the Starlight Drive-In. First, it was sparklers and illegal firecrackers. Then darkness began to fall. When the streetlights began to warm up, they turned blue at first. Grandma A and Aunt Guelda would say in unison, ‘They are bluing up.’ Yoop from Holland came over for a front-row seat at the Eldorado Fireworks. Yoop was from Holland, and Guelda called her Yoopie. Fireworks were a big event in Eldorado. Cars were parked on the edge of Route 45 for a half mile to catch a glimpse of Old Glory.

So we are just kids. 250 this year. I did not realize how young we were until I visited Europe. They have shoes older than us. We are a Grand Experiment. A Melting Pot. We are an idea.
Freedom of thought and speech. Out of many, we are one. A nation comprised of diversity. A country united on words rather than blood and soil.