A Legacy

A few hundred years ago, some men got together and signed a piece of paper with a lot of long words.

It's the truth! But it's the abridged version.

The full(er) version goes something like this: On July 4, 1776, a group of determined, incredibly brave men got together to declare the independence of their country, a colony which was still under the thumb of their mother-country, Great Britain. They did this at the risk of their own lives.

I always liked the term "mother-country". I think it really fits our country's history. We grew up, well taken care of by Great Britain. They nursed us, fed us, protected us and provided for us. They did a good job. We got older, got a little more educated. Started to wonder if we could grow up fast enough. And then one day we realized that we were too old to still be living with our mother. We rebelled, like most teens do, and we won our independence. And even though our mother didn't like that too much at first, we're still friends. We help each other out. I think that America will always be able to count on England, and vice versa -- even if we do still make fun of each other. "Squee-rul." "Skwerl."

The thing is, if those men hadn't signed that Declaration, we wouldn't be here. We may not be under England's rule anymore, but we wouldn't be the USA. Hawaii and Alaska may not be states. Maybe Texas would still be part of Mexico and the Battle of The Alamo would have been for nothing (*shudder* I can't imagine studying history without reading about my favorite moment in all history). Maybe America would have finally rebelled during World War II -- imagine what the outcome of that would be!

The truth is, we can never know what would have happened if those men hadn't signed the Declaration. Do we really want to?

Because as it is, not only are we free, we also have our own special holiday that no other country in the world has. (And don't you dare make that joke. I know you're thinking about making that joke. Don't you do it.)

The Fourth of July isn't just about the signing. Those men left a legacy. But the beautiful thing about holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving and The Fourth is that every year, a new legacy is started. A new tradition is made. Memories are permanently etched into your brain. You make new friends and learn new things about yourself.

This year, we went to my uncle's girlfriend's house. We kids swam in the pool, dived, jumped, cannonballed, squirted each other with water guns and pelted each other with foam balls and frisbees. The grown-ups made brownies and talked and laughed and hovered near the guacamole because they knew that if they left it the big girls would steal it. Eventually we got tired and migrated inside for lunch, dried off, got dressed. My sister and two of my cousins and I watched "Penelope" (which I'm putting up a blog about later). Later everyone jumped back in the pool for volleyball. Actually, I didn't. I was having too much fun wearing this totally amazing outfit to take it off.

Plus I was tired. :P So, me being me, I sat on the edge of the pool and video-taped the game.

Then after a while we all headed off to go watch fireworks. Then, exhausted, we came home. My daddy just got home from China yesterday, so it was awesome to come home and finally give him a HUG.

And that's just one Fourth. Every year is different. One year we go watch the fireworks in a park with some family and cheer while a couple kisses during the finale. Another, two of my cousins and I lie down in the flat-bed of a pick-up truck trying to keep out of sight and singing (or screaming) Tim Hawkins at the top of our lungs. And another, we park in a neighborhood and walk for ten minutes just to find a good seat because the crowd at Bedford Boys Ranch is so huge. No Fourth of July is ever the same as the one before or after.

Each one leaves its own legacy.

So, yeah, maybe I complain about the mosquito bites and having to sit on the grass. Maybe the year we spent the Fourth in a pick-up I was a little dissappointed because we didn't get there in time to see the fireworks. Maybe I'm still kind of sad because I can remember going to see Fourth of July parades when I was really little, and we don't do that anymore. Maybe, when the story is abridged, it's kind of a boring one.

But it isn't boring, and the grass isn't that bad, and I had FUN riding in the pick-up truck, and someday I'll take my kids to see Fourth of July parades, and the mosquito bites go away. But the memories never go away. The stories stay. My stories won't go down in history, but who cares? A new story will always come next year.