Remembering a Favorite Fourth, Looking Ahead

Many towns here in central Minnesota host fireworks displays on Independence Day, but not Sauk Centre.

Fireworks and Family

It’s not that the town disapproves of the Fourth of July, or fireworks, or loud noises: our big-deal midsummer celebration is Sinclair Lewis Days, later this month. And that’s another topic.

Going to fireworks displays wasn’t part of this household’s way of life, back when our kids were growing up.

Again: it’s not that we disapprove of fireworks. In this case, it just didn’t happen. More accurately, as our oldest daughter reminded me, my wife “had a rather strict bedtime for us even in the summer. And actually going would cost money”.

On the other hand, back in the day, my folks took me to July Fourth celebrations. We lived in Moorhead, Minnesota: Independence Day fireworks displays weren’t more than a few blocks from where we lived.

The times I remember in any detail, we walked: either to Concordia Field — this was before they put a football stadium, classroom buildings, residence halls, an organic garden, a baseball field — basically, while it was still one big open space.

Right. For a while, Moorhead’s Independence Day fireworks were on Concordia Field. Later, the displays were on Moorhead State’s — it’s MSUM now — football field.

I’ve got a few maybe-worth-retelling memories of those outings, including the time Moorhead’s Fourth of July fireworks should have been rained out.

Tucked Under the Rear Window

Anyway, today I’ll focus, briefly — very briefly — on one of the earliest times my folks took me to see fireworks.

I’m pretty sure it was while our 1957 Pontiac Chieftain was new.

I remember almost nothing of that night’s fireworks. But I do remember how my folks took me to see them.

We went around the time I would have been going to bed.

The evening must have been cool, since they wrapped me up and packed me onto the shelf under the rear window of the family car. My oldest daughter, reading this, said “I hope it was parked”.

I don’t remember, one way or the other. This was the mid-1950s. Most Americans weren’t nearly as hypercautious as we are now, and risk perceptions were — different.

I remember watching flashes in the sky, noticing how warm the air around my nose was whenever I breathed out, and how little room I had to move.

And I remember how much I enjoyed the experience.

I’d probably grown to big to fit there by next year’s Independence Day, since that’s the only time I remember being under the rear window.

I probably enjoyed watching fireworks more on those later Fourth of July celebrations: but that one, when I was tucked under the rear window, is still among my favorites.

“The End of Civilization as We Know It”: As Usual

This is where I could either ramble on about what a great country America is: or how it’s doomed, DOOMED, because we’ve got problems. I could, but I won’t.

Yes, we have problems. That’s nothing new.

One reason I think America is a great country is not that we’re practically perfect in every way, but that we’ve got a track record of acknowledging problems and dealing with them. It’s often — very often — been grudging acknowledgement, and that’s yet another topic.

Love of Country, Human Nature, and Working for Tomorrow’s Good

As for how I feel about my country: I like being an American.

It’s a personal preference: not particularly connected to something we’re getting right at the moment, or whatever mess we’re in.

I also love my country: within reason. It’s an obligation that comes with being a Catholic. But it’s not my top priority. Letting love of country slop over into worship of country is a bad idea. A very bad idea. (Catechism, 2112-2114, 2199, 2239)

“… ‘Our true native land is heaven, where the kingdom of God is in full bloom,” the supreme chaplain (Archbishop Lori) affirmed. Nonetheless, he added, ‘We must love our country as it is, not as we may wish it to be … This doesn’t mean we should be complacent or settle for the status quo. It only means we can’t defer love of country until everything is shipshape’….”
(“125 Years of Patriotic Service” , Columbia staff, Columbia Magazine (April 2025) [emphasis mine])

Let’s see. What else? Ah. Right: something a former president said about human nature, and what strikes me as a good idea. I’ve shared this quote before:

“…Human nature will not change. In any future great national trial, compared with the men of this, we will have as weak and as strong, as silly and as wise, as bad and as good. Let us, therefore, study the incidents of this as philosophy to learn wisdom from, and none of them as wrongs to be revenged….”
(“On Democratic Government” ; Response to a Serenade, November 10, 1864; Abraham Lincoln (November 10, 1864) via Project Gutenberg) [emphasis mine]

I think there’s wisdom in remembering that the mix of enthusiasts, crackpots, just plain folks, and the occasional person with a good idea — is pretty much what we’ve had from day one.

And that change happens. It’s always “the end of civilization as we know it”. I see that as a good thing, since it means we can work toward correcting today’s problems: and help build a better world for coming generations.

I’ve talked about this before:

• “Voting As If What I Believe Matters” (October 26, 2024)
  • Hot Button Issues and Loving My Country Anyway
    • Obligations
• “Liberal? Conservative? Republican? Democrat? No: Catholic” (July 27, 2024)
  • Love, Hope, and Making Sense
• “Truth, Beauty, and the Evening News” (June 15, 2024)
  • “Moral Panic” and Making Sense
  • Good Advice, Actually
• “Venice Biennale Holy See Pavilion: Art and Cities of Refuge” (May 4, 2024)
  • Pop Art, Patriotism, and Perceptions
    • Loving America Anyway
    • Living in Isaiah’s World
• “Acting Like Truth Matters” (May 21, 2017)
  • “These Few Years….”
  • Dual Citizenship