Mourning Another Independence Day
A holiday that has lost its meaning
There was a time when the 4th of July, or Independence Day, was one of my favorite holidays. As a kid, celebrating the 4th of July was always something to look forward to. It was, in many ways, the pinnacle of my summer vacation.
The way it used to be
In the small town in northern Wisconsin where I grew up, we always had a big parade that went right down Wisconsin Avenue, the street we unofficially called “Main Street.” Throngs of people lined up along the sides and watched as the marching bands from several nearby high schools belted out their songs with trumpets, trombones, drums, and the obligatory heavy-set kid with the tuba. Fire trucks moved along slowly with the firemen tossing candy out into the street and kids ran out to grab as much of it as their hands could hold.
Local businesses put the floats they had been working on for the previous weeks on full display with their family members waving to the people watching. The members of the VFW and the American Legion were always represented, as was the local Boy Scout troop. Our town even had its own war hero, Einar Ingman, who was a Medal of Honor recipient from the Korean War. He always rode in a convertible and waved to the people who applauded him as he went by.
