This day, this day of independence, is one I cannot cross without zeroing in on one special time, that forever made the history, well at least my history, of this day pale in comparison. 

As a small child when I heard about Old MacDonald, I knew exactly what they were talking about.  My grandparents had that farm.  There actually were ducks and sheep and cows and chickens in the chicken coop.  There was even a horse named Champ and a dog named Rowdy. 

The farm in rural Minnesota stood at the end of a very long gravel road that ended at the beginning of a half mile long driveway that took you to “the farm.”  White with green shutters you’d enter a breezeway with a bright yellow mid century kitchen table and chairs.  And when the door opened with the same welcoming creek on the other side was a grandmother who made pies and a grandfather who teased.

Many holidays saw a gathering of family at “the farm.”  But it was the 4th of July that somehow stands above.  Because this day brought the extended family…and the cousins.  A pig roast.  Fireworks bought across the border.  It was a classic celebration and picnic that, at least to us, was exactly as it should be. 

It lasted all day, and into the evening when we had our own fireworks display.  One small pop at a time.  But the oohs and ahhhs were no less dampened.  My sister and I were the only grandchildren at the time.  Since then dozens more have descended from those branches on the family tree.  

But in 1970 the world began to change.  Patriotism was discovering new territory.  My grandfather passed away.  My uncle took over “the farm.”  My grandmother moved “into town.” In that decade new grandchildren were born, we grew into teenagers and our aunts and uncles grew into parents our parents approached middle age. Life moved on. 

It has been 40 years since those summer celebrations of our country’s independence and yet, I can hear it, I can see it, and I can even smell that exact mix of roasting pork, potato salad, rhubarb dessert and burst firecrackers.  For one suspended moment my grandparents are alive, my parents are young and I’m a child with nothing to do but imagine that it will always be that way. 

I guess for me, it will.