It’s for the kids, really. Carol does it all for the kids. The American-flag decorations, the cookouts, the fireworks, and the patriotic bunting in the backyard. It’s all for them.
It’s going to be an interesting holiday. Normally, Carol’s family throws a shindig for the Fourth. But not this year.
Carol comes from a German family. Her great-grandparents came to the U.S. by boat. So all the ancient ways go unremembered. Carol’s grandkids, for instance, actually eat ketchup on their hotdogs.
My grandfather would roll in his grave.
The Fourth has always been the holiday when Carol’s family would visit. A big reunion. They would tell their children about the old days, and about baling hay on a Georgia farmstead. Kids love these stories.
But today there will be only three people at Carol’s house. One husband. An adult daughter. One grandchild.
There are summer disappointments like this happening all over the nation. Coronavirus is spreading faster than pee in a public pool, and everyone’s Fourth is affected.
In Ohio, Upper Arlington’s parade is marching a longer route so people can space themselves
several miles apart. Let us pray for the tuba players.
In Texas, Willie Nelson will throw his annual picnic concert—sort of. It will be a digitized virtual concert.
In Albuquerque, fireworks will be launched from four spots throughout the city so people can watch from the safety of porches.
And Carol’s family of four will eat hotdogs and potato salad in their backyard.
“The fireworks,” says Carol. “That’s all my grandkids are worried about. This virus doesn’t scare them, these kids want fireworks.”
There will be a display downtown that people can watch from their cars. Carol will take the grandkids. They will eat ice cream in the front seat and watch the sky light up like… Well. The Fourth of July.
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