
Ah yes, Independence Day and the fourth of July. I know that way back when, it used to mean something. But like most things, time moved on and the significance of the day has faded. I know I’m suppose to be all patriotic like and what not. You know, have a little national pride for those brave people that risk their lives and some that even gave up their lives to bring me freedom. But I just can’t bring myself to really care that much. I mean, for criminity’s sake, that was a long time ago. Hell us and England are the best of friends now. I remember once when Elmer got into a fight with John Miller after school. They whooped up on each other like it was a blood feud. But when the punching was over, they went on down to Main Street Drug and had a soda together. They don’t go around celebrating the day Elmer lost a tooth and John got that black eye. So I’m thinking that it’s time we just change the name to Freedom Day. Freedom to drink beer, blow things up and not go to work. But come to think of it, here in my little part of the world, that’s just called a weekend.

The young boy was impatiently running ahead. Lagging behind him, the elderly couple held hands and constantly stopped to take in the sites. They would read the signs and take pictures and discuss what they each were seeing. Growing frustrated, the boy eventually stopped and turned to them and said, “We need to go faster Papa and Gramma or we won’t get to see everything.” The old man turned to his wife and smiled. “He will learn someday that by slowing down, the quality of the places we do see is much more rewarding than how many places we see.”