The same ol' fourth

When I lived in New York, Fourth of July weekend always meant that on Saturday I drove up to Northville, a small village in the Adirondacks where my parents lived, and watched what seemed like the same parade every year, from the same vantage point (my aunt and uncle’s front lawn), went to the same cookout with the same people at the same place (my parent’s house), went down to the doin’s (Northville folks’ term for the midway, and the celebration in general) and saw the same rides, same games, same foods with the same wonderful smells, same people. And later watched the same fireworks from the same field next to my parents’ house long after everyone else had gone home. As a child, I rode the rides with cousins (merry-go-round, ferris wheel, and roller coaster being my favorites), scrambled with same cousins to get candy thrown from the parade floats, and I seem to remember sitting with my mother on the front porch roof of our house in pajamas to watch the fireworks, having climbed out with her through her bedroom window (but maybe that's just wishful remembering!).

Celebrating the Fourth in Northville is a small-town tradition. A comfortable ritual. You don't expect things to be different: Seeing relatives you don’t see often. Eating the same hamburgers and macaroni salad at the cookout. Seeing old friends from high school who make the same pilgrimage. Singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic (Wilhousky version) for the choir anthem in church that Sunday. Nothing changes. That’s what makes the celebration timeless.

Here in Orlando you can have a cookout anytime you want, and you can get your share of parades, fireworks and “doin’s” at any one of a number of theme parks 365 days a year. The parades are far more lavish, the fireworks far more spectacular, and the “doin’s” far more exciting. But none of it compares to once-a-year marching Boy Scouts and firemen, Baptist Church floats, cotton candy, merry-go-rounds, and fireworks that get paid for by donations placed in cannisters at the local hardware store and gas station.

My parents are both gone, their house sold. A new family lives there now. My uncle has passed away and my aunt has remarried and moved out of the area. My cousin and her family now live in their house. And I'm spending my second Fourth of July in Florida.

People die. People grow up and get older and sometimes move away. New people join in. But the Fourth of July in Northville goes on in all its glorious sameness. So let it be, for now and evermore!

Have a safe and happy holiday – Lori