Independence Day

Happy birthday, America!

I'm spending this year's Independence Day, and then some, up in the great state of Michigan-- Grand Rapids, to be exact. I flew in Wednesday night, after a not-so-much fun delay in Detroit. I travel a lot, and I'm used to getting delayed here and there. But the pelting rain and thunderstorms that practically crushed our plane on the way down did not make me want to hop on my next flight. My connecting flight was thus delayed by almost two hours, putting me into Grand Rapids at the ungodly hour of 1:25am.

Late flights also mean creepy airports, in that everything is shut down and only the janitors are left wandering the terminals. Toothless janitors who like to smile a lot. I was also aching for a slice of pizza, but had to settle with a Snickers bar and a bottle of raspberry-flavored water, sold to me by an overly zealous woman who clearly needed to meet some sort of magazine sale quota by midnight.

Jack flew in yesterday morning on a 6am flight out of Boston. He had opted to go to a party with some of his buddies after his EMT prep class finished at 10pm, and thus ended up staying out all night and going straight to the airport at 3am. Mom and Rick picked him up and came back to the house to wake me up. We ventured to IHOP, after which Jack crashed on the couch and slept for 36 hours.

My mom has been living up here with my stepdad since 2001, and I try to visit once or twice a year. I particularly love to come during the summer, especially since the Florida summers can almost be a bit much. Today, we spent the afternoon lounging on the beach at Lake Michigan, and then walked around at an arts and crafts fair, where Jack and I indulged in deep fried oreos and twinkies. It was fantastic. While we didn't see any fireworks tonight, we heard many surrounding neighbors shooting them off in backyards.

Throughout the day, I was thinking about my past 4th of July adventures. My first summer as a Florida resident (2005) was spent with my then-roommate, Billie, and her now-husband Jorge. We watched the fireworks in the town of Celebration, enjoying each others' company on a picnic blanket. I remember the day Billie came home, announcing her engagement to Jorge. They had known each other for only a few short months, but they are wonderful for each other.

I recalled a 4th of July camping trip in 2003 that I spent with Luke, his best friend Charlie and his then-girlfriend Tanya, and our mutual friends Richie and Joanna. We were camping in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and were almost kicked out of the campsite because apparently the tent limit is two per site... and we had set up three. Yes, we were rebels all right. Our group watched the fireworks at the base of Mt. Washington, before proceeding on a dark, dirt road through the mountains, in which I was sure we were going to drive off the road, into a ditch, and become the next headline in the starved-for-attention small town.

And growing up, we always traveled to the town of Rutland to watch fireworks on the hill overlooking the valley. I remember always scurrying to call up friends to go with me, because it wasn't "cool" to show up with your parents. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and smack myself in the face for thinking like that.

One of my dad's traditions involves shooting off hundreds of dollars worth of illegal fireworks in our backyard. I think he gets a silent thrill out of it, considering we live across the street from a state cop. He would make a separate road trip to New Hampshire just to purchase an exorbitant amount of fireworks. Regardless, I always loved watching him and my brother light them off in the middle of the backyard, dashing back to the deck in hopes that the rocket wouldn't topple over and shoot directly at us. Dad always manages to have leftover fireworks, so I'm almost counting on being able to fire a few off when I'm back in MA in a few weeks for a friends wedding.

Ah, the 4th of July. The holiday known for BBQs, beer, bottle rockets, and sparklers... and, of course, the anniversary of the date we declared our independence from Great Britain.