There were no flags, no banners this year for Independence Day. There were no clever uses of red, white, nor blue. Fireworks were canceled for our own safety.
There were no marks of celebration…at least, not for the American dream. All those flags and banners had been replaced and celebrated with slogans of divisiveness and blame.
The once championed chant of independence, heard the world over, had been replaced with a battle cry of submission. The flag, its colors, its meaning seemed archaic and out date. The displays of a united nation seemed suddenly dangerous and egregious. Separatism is in favor.
Parades of patriotism were considered homicidal to society at large, while mass protests were elevated to martyrdom. The dark night once exploding with bright and vivid displays of color were now tainted with the slow, constant, eerie glow of burning buildings.
Cities restricted gatherings to quell patriotism for our country during the pandemic, but endorsed people flocking to the streets to scream of resentment and hostility towards the nation.
I posted a picture of a red, white and blue ombre skein that I had, feeling it was perfect for the 4th of July. It screamed #makeamericaknitagain
A few people on facebook asked if that was going to be a bear.
Well, let’s see!
The arms came out with this interesting blocking that was nearly perfect. Looks good! Now, let’s get on with the body. And this is the thing when knitting with ombre yarn: you never really know which color is going to dominate, nor when. It just happens.
I’ll be damned if the white in the skein didn’t all congregate in one big spot right through the middle, just like the belly of a bear. Now, my first thought was to scream, “hell yeah, how cool!” But, the more I looked at it, that’s not at all what I saw.
You’ll forgive me if I may happen to sound a little darker than normal, but it looked like someone had thrown bleach on my flag. I’m not kidding you, that’s all I saw. Like someone had tossed Clorox on it to either sanitize it, kill it, or just ruin it.
Maybe I see too many parallels or allegories in the world, or maybe I see things exactly as they are. Who can say? But, this will not be a bear. No, I didn’t like at all what I saw. It was just too representative of what people want to do to my country.
So, I put the skein down and decided not to continue. I felt just….sad. Phillip and I went to bed surprisingly early. The older you get, the harder it is to stay awake for any kind of fireworks….
Dark descended, slumber crept in, the sound of simple fireworks booming on the next street caught my mind. Another one, over there….on Jefferson street. I could hear a whispering “weeesssshhhh” as a flare ascended, slammed the air with a bold bang, then fell slowly with a shimmering crackle.
Any other time in my life and I would have been pissy, would have pitched a fit! “I’m trying to sleep!!!!”
No. Not last night. The sound of “the bombs bursting in air” were so comforting to hear. That defiant sound of patriotism wasn’t just an anthem, but more like a lullaby.
I don’t think I’ve slept better in my life. As a a matter of fact, I was going to write at some point in this blog that I thought the country just might have died on July 4th, 2020. Yes, that was the day the country’s very own citizens rejected any and all celebration of its existence. That was the day the country died.
But, no….I just couldn’t bring myself to say that. Because I could hear in the near distance people who truly wanted to show love for their country. Under the shelter of night, they were determined to let the world know with one crash of a firecracker after another, “that the flag was still here.”
I buried my head in my pillow, nestled myself under a quilt and a pile of cats and smiled.
We’re going to be ok.
As long as there are people who will defiantly show a love for this country, rather than show a fashionable hate, we’re going to be ok.
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