Sir, of course, has his own reasons for rejoicing. Confronted with the realities of Independence Day when we moved from The Sceptered Isle to Colorado thirteen years ago, I assumed his mood would be dark, gloomy, and mournful for Lost Imperial Days of Yore. He surprised me enormously by asserting that - on the contrary - getting rid of the thirteen colonies and their troublesome inhabitants was the smartest move old Georgie Porgie ever made. 'Good riddance to bad rubbish!' is Sir's battle cry as he somehow manages to turn English defeat into English triumph. That's the way of history, I suppose, and it's fine as long as the neighbours don't catch on.
I remember we spent that first Fourth at the Greeley Stampede doing some cultural bridge-building of our own. We cheered on bull riders, six-year-old mutton busters, rodeo clowns, monster truck drivers, and competitive lumberjacks while eating barbecued turkey legs the size of triceratops-thighs and drinking fine local microbrews. A great time was had by all.
My own outlook on the holiday is colored by the fact that I am facing it this year, for the first time, as a gluten-freedom fighter. Fitting symbolism to be sure, but not unencumbered with difficulties. Hot dogs! Burgers on the grill! Apple pie! Blueberry cobbler! Many of the culinary accompaniments to fireworks are so gluten-enrobed or gluten-filled that finding edible picnic-hamper fare (in this part of the country, anyway) can be a bit challenging, to say the least.
So, I am spending some time this weekend honoring the Stars and Stripes in my own inimitable way - by preserving up a storm with the beautiful fruit that is coming to market now that summer is well and truly upon us. We might find the Fourth of July problematic in some respects, but at least we'll be able to spend the months to come honoring the Red, White, and Blue.
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