Carrying Fourth

It's a hot, sunny day; the type of day that calls people to barbeques and picnics. Across this country people who have largely never witnessed a revolution with first-hand clarity are quaffing chilled beer by the gallon and lighting pyrotechnic devices in celebration of one.

Sometimes deep currents run through my mind as I stand watch over the multitudes of pornographic movies and magazines in a largely quiet store. Today I found myself reflecting on strength of character and how often people bother to examine theirs outside of denigrating that of another.

Independence Day. It's an occasion that makes me wonder if tradition, the tacit encouragement to kick back and detonate a few things for effect because that's how it's always celebrated, has eclipsed the depth of commitment, the abject leap of faith that was collectively taken in 1776. Our founding fathers, revered as national heroes, formally committed themselves to treason against the crown of England. Somehow I don't think many of my fellows have ever devoted much time to grasp the gravity of this action. It seems like almost everybody regards the drafting and signing of the Declaration of Independence like a city council ratifying a new statute.

These men were signing their own death warrants and they knew it. These men had come to believe that they had something worth dying for. What's more, they knew it was a gamble. In many ways, the odds were that their insurrection would be put down. There would be no clemency, no second chance. They would be hanged, drawn, and quartered for having the temerity to sign their names to that inflammatory document. They had to win if they were to live.

Not only that, but there is no way for them not to be fully cognizant that they were committing the lives of countless others to their course of action. There was no standing army, no fully trained and equipped navy, and they set themselves each at odds with one of the best at the time. They were aware that men, women, and children, their neighbors and families were going to be torn asunder and destroyed.

It was anything but jaunty holiday in that room in 1776 when those grim men committed themselves to years of a bloody, bitter guerilla conflict in their own streets in pursuit of self-determination.

That is the resolve, the guts, we should be remembering.

Pity it seems to be increasingly losing context, so many seem to see only the hotdogs and sparklers anymore instead of the convictions.

I am an American, my national identity bought by the blood, sweat, and tears of people spanning all the way back to that momentous day in July of 1776. This is what I celebrate.