A Special Fourth of July

~Published in the Charleston Gazette - Sunday, July 1, 2012~

As far back as I can remember, the Fourth of July was a big day at our house. My parents came from a generation of proud Americans who weren’t ashamed to demonstrate that pride. To them, Independence Day was special and should be celebrated to the max—all day long! It was my father’s favorite holiday.

When I was young, he made sure everyone in the house was up early. There was chicken to fry, fresh vegetables to cook, watermelon to put on ice and ice cream to be consumed. This was the only day of the year that I was permitted to start the day with an ice cream cone, and have as many as I wanted throughout the day, as long as it lasted. He’d order up a three gallon container packed in dry ice and buy several dozen cones. It was his pleasure to dip ice cream into cones all day long for anyone who wanted it. All the neighborhood kids came by for the special treat.

After I was married and had children of my own, we celebrated, too, but not as lavishly. We had picnics, grilling hot dogs and hamburgers, lots of beverages and yes, ice cream. But our celebrations didn’t come close to being on the same level with those long-ago “fourths” of my childhood!

Once, when my five kids were young – ranging in age from about twelve to four years old – my parents decided to show them what an old-fashioned Fourth of July was like. Before noon, they appeared on our doorstep with food and supplies. First, several containers of ice cream were placed in my freezer. Then, my mother started taking prepared food out of a big box. For starters, there was her traditional platter of crusty, golden fried chicken, fresh green beans cooked with new potatoes, corn on the cob, and several ripe tomatoes. When my dad kept going back to the car, I investigated and found that he’d taken two large tubs to our patio and filled them with ice. In one, he placed as many canned drinks as it would hold. Every drink you might imagine was in that tub. In the other, he placed his favorite—the one item that, to him, no fourth would be complete without—a big, round, juicy watermelon.

Shortly after we had stuffed ourselves with the wonderful dinner, my dad started dipping ice cream. I always monitored the amount of sweets my children had, but my parents ordered me (in a nice way) to leave them alone – that this was their party and the kids could have as many soft drinks and ice cream cones as they wanted! “After all, it’s the Fourth of July,” my father declared. My kids were in Heaven!

And finally, the watermelon – the last treat of the day – was sliced! My dad got the biggest kick out of watching kids consume the juicy fruit. When juice dripped off their chins and ran down to their elbows, he’d laugh heartily. I can still see the delight on his face!

My father has been gone many years, but it will always be impossible to think about the Fourth of July without remembering him. He left his grandchildren with many wonderful memories. There is no way any of them, even the youngest, could ever forget his kindness, the warmth of his smile or that very special Fourth of July!

Nor could I.