Fourth

Happy belated Fourth of July to all! It's a great day when the Brits and the Americans can celebrate together, as we did at camp.

Somehow, the Brit is even more decked out than the American.

 It was a great day of Chipwiches, blasting "Party in the USA" over the loudspeakers from the office (and then flipping out in fear when I turned on Reel Big Fish's cover of "Brown-Eyed Girl," only to discover that they yell what sounds suspiciously like "Fuck! Fuck!" right in the middle), and Spicing Up our Lives (as the younger campers wondered what unknown girl band was blasting at the carnival).

 It was a day of true Americana--something I've been slightly obsessed with lately--from that carnival to the Eggs New Orleans I enjoyed at a little local cafe that seasoned counselors raved about. Now I understand why.

 Look how decked out I am! That would never happen on a normal July 4th.

Independence Day's never been an especially exciting holiday for me--I always considered it just another summer day, perhaps a little more beefed up than the average day, with slightly-overrated fireworks. This year, for some reason, it was something really special. Maybe it's being back in the country for the first time in almost a year and remembering that, no matter how much I disagree sometimes with our politics and policies and the stubborn people, this will always be my home, somewhere I can come back to. And that was something I was truly grateful for--that I was born and raised here--as I ate my Chipwich and watched the camp fireworks with my new friends.