Independence Day in small town style

For the Fourth of July this year, my hubby and I visited the beach. Although we live in California's beautiful Central Valley, only a short distance from the waves as the crow flies, we aren't crows. The windy roads that take us through the coastal range between our home and the sea require a half-day's travel and, for me, a scopolamine patch behind my ear.

 We spent the week along the northern California coast and loved it. The weather could not have been more cooperative and the small town Americana celebrations of the holiday made the visit even more memorable

Ft. Bragg, California has a farmers' market every Wednesday afternoon. We watched as streets were closed and the market set up. Then we were among the first to wander through the stalls, examining the produce, the baked goods, and the other wares vendors had for sale. We went home with some delicious bread and berries.


On Thursday, we watched a similar set-up in the community of Mendocino as they prepared to welcome the Fourth of July holiday. The volunteer fire department started the day with selling breakfast burritos. Sometime around eleven o'clock, they switched over to hamburgers. The fund raising went on throughout the day as the fire volunteers fed people and collected funds. Down the street at the local park, another organization roasted hot dogs as its annual fund raiser.

Outside the Masonic Hall, George Washington appeared every hour or so, reading aloud from The Declaration of Independence. Small groups gathered at his feet. The parade began at noon, small town Americana showing off its stars and stripes. For reasons known only to them, the locals scheduled their fireworks for Saturday evening, not Thursday, so we missed that part of the celebration, but by the time we returned home, we felt we had enjoyed the holiday in style.

We've been in different places on the Fourth and we always celebrate. We honor the sacrifices of those who gave us this nation and kept it for us when its independence and peace were threatened. We share in the pride of a peaceful and prosperous homeland. While recognizing its many faults, we celebrate its virtues. Having been present during Bolivia's most recent revolution, I always celebrate the peaceful transfer of power that happens every four or eight years. America isn't perfect, but it's home and I, for one, am grateful to be here.

Susan Aylworth is the author of 18 published novels. Her latest is SUNNY'S SUMMER, a romance set in the Sierra foothills near her northern California home in the aftermath of the devastating #CampFire. She lives with her husband of 49 years, Roger, and one old, arthritic cat. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.susanaylworth.com, @SusanAylworth, susan.aylworth.author@gmail.com, or facebook.com/Susan.Aylworth.Author. Also on Pinterest and Instagram.

Thoughts on the Fourth

The fourth of July lands this week and I find it a bit intimidating. For me, it follows my brother's birthday on the second and the first anniversary of my mother's passing on the third. If I have some mixed feelings about the celebration, please bear with me.

Mike is seven years younger than I am, so I was old enough to remember his birth in some detail. Mom spent the last three months of that pregnancy on full bed rest, so many of my memories of that time are a blend of watching my mother sit half-way up to crochet one item after another, or sitting in the bed beside her while she read to me and my younger sister, one book after another.

In her last couple of years, after Macular Degeneration blinded her, my sister returned the favor, reading a couple of chapters on every visit to our mother, one book after another. I lived too far away to be a regular reader, but Mom loved hearing the stories I wrote. Pat read them all at least twice.

Meanwhile Mike, despite a rough start and some difficult years along the way, is now living his personal dream in a lovely little cottage situated in a town where outdoor living is paramount. He is one happy camper. Mike is happily situated and Mom is no longer in pain. Those will be my happy thoughts for the beginning of this week. That brings us to the Fourth of July.

I grew up as a flag-waver. Although my views of our country have become somewhat more rounded and less idealized, I still proudly claim my citizenship. Other nations, particularly in Europe, have much of the personal freedom we enjoy, but the opportunities that have fulfilled my life are found in abundance only in America.

Someday I may yet write about my experiences with my daughter stuck in Bolivia during the most recent overthrow of their government in 2005. Having seen how power transitions are handled violently in some other places, I'm deeply grateful for the peaceful changes I've seen every four to eight years in our country. When the Bolivian transportation strikes let up enough that my daughter and I could get safely out of La Paz, I swore I would always celebrate independence Day.

This year, although the celebration may be somewhat diminished by the power of the day before, I will celebrate with my husband at the seaside, watching the waves roll in, enjoying a pancake breakfast cooked by the local fire department, and watching a parade that is sheer Americana, all fun and flags. I'll be thinking of my father, my father-in-law, and others who sacrificed so much to save our freedoms during WW II, and of the many others who have served before and since, now including two nephews who proudly wear American uniforms.

I'll be having some mixed emotions, but I'll be celebrating, just as I promised, hoping and praying that America will always remain "the land of the free and the home of the brave."