July 15, 2026
Ahh, another 4th of July: mom and baby girl were already asleep, the rest of us were lounging in the den, trying to read our books as the snap, crackle, popping had just begun- “Can we go outside and watch the fireworks dad?”. Eh, I’d rather have some rice crispies, but what the hell- it’s happening anyway, so rather than pretend to ignore it, let’s lay on the grass and watch the sky get lit up for a bit, peacefully conflicted.
My family lives in a rural neighborhood, smack dab in the middle of Missouri, where fireworks, particularly on this 250th celebration of our independence, were expected to surge through the night and into the wee hours of July 5th- and while they most certainly lived up to the hype, I’m at odds with what is actually being “displayed” every year, beyond the aesthetic.
Smoke ‘n Mirrors
It was the Star Spangled Banner incarnate. You know the drill: rockets glaring, bombs bursting and the din of what sounded like incessant machine guns “brrrt, brrrt, brrrrrrrt!” and occasional drone strikes “skeeerer-thoooom!”. Around 12:15AM I poked my head out of the back door and into a haze of smoke so thick that I couldn’t make out the end of our 1-acre yard, as the “rat-a-tat-tat” of crackers continued to pepper the sultry night air. If our old pup Brewster had managed to stick around up to this quarter-millenium celebration, he most certainly would have keeled over from an anxiety attack.
At least house pets have a pillow to hide under and maybe even their people snuggling them extra closely; the wildlife, assuredly aghast at just what in god’s name was happening around them, are biologically incapable of preparing for it. Local animal populations are often decimated by the exclamation mark we stamp on the middle of every American summer; not to mention the various heavy metal compounds, combustion by-products and fine particulate matter that get absorbed into their habitats- our lakes, streams, air, and soil.
When I discussed the negative environmental impact of these massive fireworks displays with my boys (7 and 10), they wanted to know “why, then, do people shoot them off?”. My initial response was far too diplomatic and even possibly condescending: “for the same reason you asked me to come out here and watch them”. They knew and I knew that this wasn’t a sufficient answer, especially coming from me. If it’s acceptable for people to shoot thousands of fireworks in one night AND for us to watch them do it, then why is dad not pumping up this holiday?; furthermore, why can’t we light our own fireworks?
These were not their actual follow-up questions, but more of my guess as to what was going on in their young heads (it’s what I would have been thinking at that age). Instead we laid on our backs, watching the bats flutter about the illuminated dark sky in disarray. The reasons why they (my kids, not the bats) can’t shoot off fireworks are pretty straightforward: they’re dangerous (I love all of your little fingers and don’t want to be looking around the yard for any of them), they’re toxic (as mentioned), and… yeah, your dad is sort of clumsy, okay?
The first question though, “why I don’t pump up this holiday”, is a bit more squiggly and convoluted; not to mention extremely controversial; to the point where trying to sum it up in an essay (or in a discussion with my kids) won’t even begin to scratch the surface of “what it means to celebrate being a pure-bred American”. Just that phrase alone produces so much unease within my gut, that I’m not entirely sure I’d be up to the challenge of attempting to walk anyone through my mental process with regard to this patriotic apprehension- eh, what have I got to lose?
Last Action Hero
We most certainly can purchase fireworks and light them, but I’ve grown weary of doing things just because: a) “I can”; and b) everyone else is doing it. It’s part of the same set of reasons for why I don’t eat at McDonald’s, shop at Walmart or own guns. To harrowing degrees of excess, these are the freedoms that our country actively celebrates (and not just on July 4th): low everyday prices, food freaky fast, and the right to purchase enough ammunition to stage a second Civil War.
In all fairness, there’s not much else to celebrate when we all pay massive chunks of our income for healthcare, college, childcare, public transportation, parental/sick leave, long-term eldercare and prescriptions, plus tax…and then other taxes; while most other developed nations provide these at little to no cost to their citizens (taxes yes, but of benevolence). Meanwhile, the unhoused population, along with unemployment, is spiking, mental wellness is crashing and burning, and our once treasured and sacred public lands are being parcelled off to the highest bidding 1%. At this point, we’ll take whatever they’re willing to give us (as long as we don’t kneel during the National Anthem).
This country was also built upon the idea that one race’s freedom would come at the absolute cost of the annihilation of an entire other “sub-human” race (Teddy Roosevelt’s words, among many other leaders of the free world); not to mention the ongoing discrimination toward other races that continues to this day, as a result of the planting of this seed of prejudice.
Yet, we continue to boastfully hoot and holler at the protections we’re afforded and our affiliation to the red, the white and the blue (these colors work great on flags, but not so well in political practice). With all of this in mind, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that this empire, operating behind a veil known as “democracy”, has little to no interest in the wellbeing of its constituents.
It comes as no surprise that we covet and brandish our afforded liberties, while remaining obvious to the ways in which we are held under the thumb of a regime that will do anything to maintain its level of power and control. As a result, fear and confusion are co-piloting the internal mechanisms that allow us to misinterpret a concept as basic as a celebration and turn it into something resembling a scene from the movie Platoon.
When many cultures around the globe celebrate together, there is depth and intention: there’s traditional food that has taken all day to prepare; people dance expressively or ritualistically, or both; there are lists of treasured songs to be sung, peaceful lighting ceremonies, as well as proper respect and remembrance offered to departed loved ones. It’s wholesome and warm and it serves its purpose to the people who indulge in its communal spirit.
A military jet flies over as we Door-Dash some Wingstop (grilling can be a messy and bothersome affair these days), tear down some goalposts after the game, maybe a few fights, a mosh pit at the post-game concert (dancing is for sissies), some explosives, riots, property destruction, a mass shooting,…somehow we’ve drifted into a Schwarzenegger film here with our version of what it means to celebrate anything; and while I’m struggling to envision a way out of it, so are millions of other people who are deciding to stay home and “screen it” instead.
Waters of Oblivion
In general, I do my best not to complain, especially not in front of my children. As far as holidays that spark aggressive nationalism goes, complaining about it is nothing more than an isolated protest, which only leads to further internal dissatisfaction; yet nobody is interested in bringing these contentious opinions public, out of legitimate fear of mass ridicule and quite possibly their safety. So if we’re to avoid the adversarial approach altogether, what we seem to be left with is, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”.
The thing is, we don’t have to do anything about it at all. Sure, we might need to be patient for a night and wear ear plugs to bed; but aside from that, the frustration people may be feeling when their little baby can’t get to sleep or the dog is clawing its own ears off, isn’t really about the noises outside. Those who don’t “join ‘em” are, on some level, aware of what these excessive celebrations might actually signify, beneath the glory.
Part of the reason I don’t pump up this holiday is because I don’t have to; for it seems as though everyone around us is managing to keep us all more than apprised as to the greatness and the eminence of our flag and for which it stands. The tinge of melancholy in all of this is not from personal nostalgia or from wishing I was a more fun dad (I feel like I got that covered…for now). The sadness is for history and for all of the people who were proud enough to make concessions and adapt to an Imperialist form of rule; yet, who still perished unnecessarily at the hands of leaders who considered them disposable, basically because they were not whites.
There is a restlessness that seems to be permeating and influencing the way we go about our present day lives. And while I recognize that it’s not up to me to change the way everyone else is living, we all have agency over the choices we make and the people we decide to be. Every day that we wake up is an opportunity to learn something new, even if it’s history- yet even that has so many redactions in the textbook version that our educational system still employs, it’s no wonder we do things so aggressively, as we’re still trying to figure out who we are as an adolescent country, sans reconciliation.
We can’t ignore it. Maybe we don’t really want to jump in and celebrate it. What we can do is formulate a healthy comprehension of our past and present, not just to be more accurately informed and personally prepared to handle the future; but to keep tending to our mental garden, collecting drops of knowledge, and eventually accumulate a pool of awareness from which those around us may be able to drink.
When we ask more questions, we take to reading the books of our choosing, when we seek knowledge, we often find that our discoveries bring a new lightness, an aura if you will; not an explanation per se, but a more sophisticated way of understanding the often frustrating, exhaustingly complex, and inexorably divisive reality to which we are tethered.
In time, our process of true learning may begin to soften our reactions and the way we experience our opinions, while strengthening our ability to be untethered, forthright, and virtuous- for the knowledge we may procure is not power, it is freedom. “skeeerer-thooom!”
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