I don’t usually re-post a blog, but I wanted to share my thoughts about the week of July 4th here, as well as on the Soul Mate Authors’ Blog, which will be published tomorrow morning. I apologize, but here it is:
For most Americans, the week of July 4th builds until that special day set aside to celebrate our independence. Picnics, fireworks, family are all part of the revelry.
For me, though, the week of July 4th is a week of great reflection. Do I participate in the celebrations? You bet. I’m proud to be an American. I’m proud of what our forefathers created for us. I do think about those early days of our country – the fighting, the parties, the riots.
But on July 2, 1976 (I mean 1976, the year of the United States’ Bi-centennial, not 1776) a great event occurred in my life, one that I’ve reflected over during the past 37 years. On that day, my first born came into this world, changing my life forever. Even though he was overdue by a few days, I’d rather wished he’d waited until the Fourth. I’d have a bi-centennial baby. But wait! The day after Rob was born, my sister called to tell me I really did have a bi-centennial baby. You see, our independence from England was formally declared on July 2, 1776 – not July 4th. July 4th is the day Congress approved the final text of the Declaration.
Anyway, I was in the hospital in Milwaukee on July 4th celebrating my new son. The hospital was located right on Lake Michigan. That morning, I watched all the activities on television. (Thank goodness as the temperature hovered in the 90s.) Our babies were brought to us wrapped in red, white and blue blankets. Of course I cried. I’m very patriotic – but all those hormones raging through my body might have had something to with it, too. I would probably have cried if he’d been wrapped in a burlap sack. Our meals that day came with bi-centennial napkins and other assorted decorations.
The other great thing about being in the hospital was the view from my room. Not only was the hospital on the lake, but my window faced the fireworks’ show. If anyone remembers 1976, they will recall the fireworks that year were especially amazing. Not surprisingly, I had quite a few visitors that night. Most had their faces glued to the sight outside my window, not to myprecious son. I have to admit the little darling was blissfully unaware that even his parents didn’t pay any attention to him during the show.
This year my reflections were especially poignant. Rob now lives in New Jersey with his wife and two children. We don’t get to see him that often, but they will be here next week. I can’t wait to see them. What is giving me problems is that he’s — 37 years old!!! He’s nearly 40!!! Yikes. When the heck did he turn into a 37-year-old man when I haven’t aged a day since he was born? (Okay, sometimes I can be delusional.)
So, that’s my reflections of the week. I hope everyone had a great Fourth of July. God Bless America!