Just a small town parade…

Last year we went to a teeny tiny parade in rural PA and then headed to Valley Forge, but this year I walked (yes! walked!) in a parade closer to the city. I was technically working though, taking photos of the parade, and of course I had to share some with you! These are from the warm-up just before all of these colorful characters marched through Smalltown USA, handing out candy and warm feelings to local onlookers.

July 4th is quickly becoming one of my favorite holidays, and I mean that in earnest, even as a UK expat! American patriotrism itself is so wonderfully earnest, it's hard not to appreciate.

In the evening we stayed home, ate wings and watched fireworks. We live on a hill and had a spectacular view of fireworks all across the county and beyond. The horizon was ablaze with large and tiny specks of light, and we had fun guessing which displays we could spot. We reckon saw fireworks from Philadelphia to Allentown, and even as far as New Jersey.

At the Philadelphia fireworks along the Parkway last night there seems to have been a gunfire hoax (mirroring a similar incident two years ago). If you headed to Penn's Landing, you would have missed that, but you would have also missed the fireworks.

By the way I have no idea who the dog is, but it sums up the day, don't you think? 

Happy July 4th, er July 2nd, wait… August 2nd, or 30th?

 John Adams wrote, and I quote:

 “the Second of July, 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival.”

Okay America, what's going on here? This time last year it was 90F and sunny. Last year I sat in the sun and watched the local July 4th parade go by, and  cultivated a nice tan in my first few weeks adjusting to my new home country.

Today it's almost 90F, cloudy and muggy as hell (is hell muggy? I'd guess so).

But wait a minute, now you're telling me that July 4th isn't actually Independence Day? What mockery is this? John Adams reckons it should be celebrated on the 2nd (actual vote of independence) but those pesky Brits didn't even know about US independence for another six weeks!

Philadelphia, where it all happened, didn't celebrate until July 8th, and that was just with a parade and some gun fire, not a whole boat load of fireworks.

Incidentally, I also found out from Emma at Philly Love Notes that every July 4th in Philadelphia thousands of people head down to the waterfront at Penn's Landing and wait for fireworks. And wait. And wait some more. Because there are none. They're on the other side of the city.

The mental image of hoards of people bemoaning a lack of firecrackers cracks me up almost as much as when fireworks prematurely explode.

I tested this out on my US family and asked when the last time they saw July 4th fireworks on the waterfront.

Them: Hmm, several years ago at least.
Me: At least thirteen.
Them: No, not that long.
Me: No, I'm telling you, they haven't had fireworks there for at least thirteen years.
Them: Really? No. They happen there every year. Do you want to go this year?
Me: Uuuhh…

Philadelphia seems to have this collective false memory about the location of their fireworks. Is this the plot of M Night Shyamalan's next movie? As Emma later tweeted:  How do you convince 1000s of people not to show up to a fireworks show that doesn't exist?

If you're planning to head down to Penn's Landing tomorrow and take photos/video of disappointed patriots, please share the photos with me. I'd love to see them. As for me? I'll be at another parade this year. I promise to share some photos with you.

What are you doing for this most red, white and blue of holidays? 

Go 4th part 2

After all the stars, stripes, vintage cars, candy and community members paraded along the street, we walked to the car (walking being a rare treat in this rural sprawl, even if it was nearing 100F) and headed to Valley Forge.

Valley Forge is a famous winter encampment of the US military during the Revolutionary war against the British. Now it's a huge park and visitor center. It seemed appropriate to go on July 4th, and I reckoned it'd be a great opportunity to brush up on my US history. I have a lot of brushing up to do. I only recently learned that New York was named after the Duke of York and not the city itself, that Virginia was named after Queen Elizabeth I, and Louisiana after the French King (the 14th one). Maryland was named after King Charles I's Catholic wife (and it was also a Catholic safe haven). I do find it slightly ironic that these names stuck even after the US declared independence, but I like that they did.

Valley Forge was great. Their "second annual July 4th picnic" was in full swing when we arrived. This involved BBQ food, kids' games, colonial outfits, toy guns and of course, stars and stripes. We watched Jefferson read out the declaration and we were even offered the chance to sign our independence.

I approached the 'independence' stall with a little trepidation. I felt a little (a lot) like an imposter, but I thought it would be a fun thing to sign my independence from the UK. The past couple of weeks have felt a lot like I'm on holiday in the US, but I'm not. I'm permanent now!

The friendly girl at the stall struck up a conversation with me and I was happy to oblige until she said "uh, where are you from?"

Uh oh. Busted. Oops. Enemy in the ranks.

"Shh, I'm actually British!" I whispered.

"Haha, I thought so, I won't tell!" She laughed.

 I added "I just got my Green Card though, so it's aaall fine!" I signed my name, and she joked that it was 'official' now.

It was too darn hot to stay much longer, so we bowed out, and drove back home. I had baked a cake from the Mary Berry Baking Bible I'd been given for Christmas. It was, to emulate the irony of the names of the founding States, a chocolate Victoria Sponge. I thought it seemed apt.

Mark and I cut the cake with the knife we'd been given for our wedding cake, and that Mark had actually forgotten to bring to the wedding. Cheesy, yes, but to be fair we didn't get to spend our first anniversary together, and this is a reminder to make and cut (and eat, I hope) more cakes together.

We ate chicken grilled outside on the family BBQ. No rain, no food poisoning, just your every day US BBQ, not the drenched British renditions I'm used to. Then we settled down to watch the shows on TV. If you're from the Old World (like me) and you've never seen July 4th television before, it bears a resemblance to the Eurovision Song Contest, but as if nobody involved knew it was Eurovision, and with added American patriotism and bravado. And the really great thing is that it's on more than one channel. Oh yes. I think this is something that Eurovision should definitely adopt. We could flick from NY to Capitol Hill to Philly, catch a patriotic revue by a girl from the hit show Smash, watch some smooth jazz, experience the legend that is John Williams, enjoy a bit of bluegrass, and listen to more than one rendition of America the Beautiful if we wanted.

At one point I did start singing along with a familiar tune coming from the Military walking bands. After being reprimanded for my blatant inappropriateness, I discovered it wasn't supposed to be the UK national anthem God Save the Queen, but actually the patriotic US ditty My Country 'Tis of Thee. It's the same tune guys, so forgive a simple Brit's fanfare faux pas?

After all that we watched a few hundred thousand dollars' worth of fireworks blow up all over the country, including some around our neighborhood that sounded way too loud to be legal. We missed the San Diego firework fiasco until the next morning - at any rate I thought it bore a strikingly suspicious resemblance to the Oban November 5th fiasco last year.

But now, holiday is definitely over. Time to get used to living here for real…

Go 4th part 1

Several years ago when Mark and I were both living in Glasgow, we decided to have a small BBQ for July 4th. Most of our friends were working on their Postgrad dissertations at the time, as were we, so a bit of light, patriotic, distraction from our studies was very welcome.

We bought a cheap BBQ from a local shop where Mark also inquired "do you have any fireworks?"

"No mate, it's the wrong time of year."

Mark was stunned. It was July 4th, how could it be the wrong time of year for fireworks? I had to remind him: "We're in the UK. US Independence - not celebrated so much. We only use fireworks to celebrate the time a guy tried to blow up our Parliament, not the time we lost to you guys. It's not really our finest moment in history."

We went to a local bottle shop and Mark cleaned them out of Sam Adams. We cooked meat outside my apartment. As per the rules of British barbecuing, it rained. We had trouble keeping the BBQ alight and everyone congregated in the kitchen, except a few guys who decided it was a man's job to play with meat and flames. The burgers and sausages were served according to traditional British BBQ cuisine: black and crunchy on the outside and disconcertingly pink in the middle.

I thought it was great, everything turned out as expected and nobody died of food poisoning. Mark learned a lot about the rules (or unwitting traditions) of British al fresco dining.

This year it was my turn to see a real July 4th in real America. Our local parade was just the ticket. It was already reaching 90F (32C) by 10am, but we took a spot by the roadside and enjoyed being part of the local community. Nowhere in the world does patriotism like the USA. And nowhere in the USA does patriotism like the rural sprawl.