All this is really too bad. It is also, in my view, to miss the wonderful, ecumenical possibilities of the Fourth, not to mention the patriotism that animates it and which it, in turn, inspires. You hear a lot these days about various ethnic groups among us who do not feel connected to our national rituals or our history. Concerning some - such as blacks, whose American past was an unforgivable nightmare which the country is still struggling to make amends for and set right - it is said to be worse than ludicrous to demand loyalty, let alone sentimental attachment, to the folks who were preeminently their oppressors.
It is argued, as well, that judged by today’s standards and moral sensibility, some of those musket-bearing guys in silk breeches whom we honor were a pretty outrageous lot. And, besides, whose ancestors were they, anyway? Surely most of us in this country are descended from people who (1) were still being kicked around, starved or kept down on some other continent at the time this country was being founded and (2) had their own history of misuse by the American majority in the early days after they got here.
To me all of this, though true, is merely an inversion of the reasons for celebrating the country on the Fourth - its awesome and imperfect founders and its unique, historic and largely successful struggle to realize its professed destiny. I have long thought it was a stroke of genius for us to honor acquired ancestors in this country, to claim descent from people to whom our only connection is spiritual and philosophical and to insist, whether or not there were any from our particular tribe present in the drawing room at the time, that the high-minded terms of the will they drew up for the country be fulfilled. We also of course regularly amend that document to make its abiding principles applicable to the transformed world in which we live.
Americans, unlike others, are not just pursuing the feuds and imperatives of ancient bloodline descent, the source of so much mindless, self-destructive conflict around the world today. We adopted our forebears. Even those among us who have had the worst of the American experience make a voluntary claim on these people, demand that the founders’ posterity be held to the best of their ideals, never mind what has happened up till now. It is this common acquired past and the common purpose that is meant to flow from it that is threatened by some of the excessive separatism and social fragmentation that are being witnessed now.
I think it is possible to agree that much more of the history and culture of various groups in this country should be incorporated into our schooling and our shared knowledge and yet to be made nervous by the prospect of extreme political or cultural atomization and - worse - rejection of the most valuable part of the American political heritage. True, there is something monumentally hypocritical on the part of the once excluding better-off white tribe tut-tutting the self-segregation of others now, against whom, for years, they barred the doors. And the melting pot, in any event, was never meant to be a place where we all donned madras Bermuda shorts and talked about Mummy and Daddy and the club. Americans should be encouraged to reclaim their cultural roots. But there is also an all-important, binding, shared American identity now - political, philosophical and cultural. It is big enough to hold everyone, tough enough to take (and profit from) our continuous complaints and efforts at improvement, and indispensable to the well-being of every individual and group in this country. That is what we honor, what is worth shooting off all those fireworks for on the Fourth, and it shouldn’t be put at risk.
he place where I have been spending the Fourth lately - a small town in the West - knows this. It boasts what we feel is arguably the best and funniest and most moving and exhausting parade in the country - with or without Desert Storm. Everyone pretty much knows everyone and it seems as if there are more people riding and marching in the parade than there are lining the route to watch them: the fire trucks spraying the air with their hoses, the American Legion post guys, the school marching bands, the peace-movement people on behalf of our “sister city” in Nicaragua, the Cub Scouts barely able to ride their newly acquired bikes, the littlest kids tossing candy (and occasionally viciously pelting each other and the bystanders with it), the checkout-counter people from the supermarket (dressed as grapes last year), the appliance-store salesmen (arms, legs and heads sticking out of Maytag packing cases as they cavort along), a van full of gamely waving good-sport ancients from the local convalescent home. and on and on. I don’t claim that it is, 365 days a year, the Kingdom of Heaven; but on this day at least, the lion marches with the lamb, everyone has a good time, fellowship is all and the place fairly levitates with patriotism.
Yes, patriotism. The culture is shared and familiar: hot dogs, watermelon, ice cream, beer, flags and fireworks. The heritage and history are honored, claimed, no matter whether the celebrant is a newly arrived Asian immigrant, a turn-of-the-century arrivee or a bona fide pioneer. People who may have a hundred complaints - 50 with the way the country is going under the guidance of the despised politicians and 50 with the perceived shortcomings of their fellow townspeople and neighbors - declare a day of amnesty for all in which they acknowledge and celebrate the amazing country in which they have all fetched up and which they know they can make work. It’s the way the day ought to be.
