This is the front of our house on the morning of 4 July 2018 just before a brief, but intense, rain shower descended upon us. (thanks to Cindy for the picture)
Our supper was traditional: grilled cheeseburgers and macaroni salad. It was simple but tasty. There were plenty of fireworks, both public and private. Mocha was drugged enough that she weathered the storm pretty well.
I will always remember the fourth of July 62 years ago when I woke up in he Army hospital at West Point. The day before the weeping poison ivy blisters on my hands had soaked into the white, cotton "gun gloves" that we wore to the swearing in ceremony on Trophy Point. They were dried when I removed them along with a good deal of epidermis from my fingers. I spent ten days there with nearly continuous saline soaks. It made for a less than ideal start to plebe year.
The many successive annual observations have been much more enjoyable. I have always been astounded by our founding fathers who put their lives (and their sacred honors) on the line (literally) against the most powerful super-power on earth at that time. The British Empire ruled the world and our fathers were thirteen small, squabbling colonies. Audacity, for sure.
I hope you had a great fourth
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