Celebrate!

Got a big shindig at the house planned for this Sunday. To celebrate Independence Day, of course. But in between the time I've spent worrying about and attending to the details of preparing for the party, hayrides, fireworks, and all, I've still managed to find more than a few moments to think about this wonderful country of ours.

This year, for some reason, my mind kept returning to when I was a boy growing up during the Sixties. I still remember how extremely proud I was as I came to know what it meant to be an American. As I learned in gradeschool and elsewhere our exciting history, our unmatchable achievements, our unchallenged status as Number One, I felt not so much blessed as just plain lucky. I suspect it was kind of like a kid reared in the Bronx during the Fifties. The Yankees had been great for some time, they were still great then, and would continue to be so, with Mickey Mantle in the lineup, for as long as anyone could imagine. That kid never had to choose to be a Yankee fan, he was one by birthright, and with all the bragging rights that came with it, even though he, himself, had done absolutely nothing to earn them.

Oh what great fortune to be called an American. Celebrate!