| |||
Summertime in the BelgradesContentsfor Printing
Article Summaries |
Celebrating Freedom
By Esther Perne The 4th of July: it's a celebration of national independence; it is celebrated by the freedom of the holiday weekend . . . by traditions simple and seasonal, by friends and families, picnics and parades, flags and fireworks, and the festivities that follow an ever-familiar format. The 4th of July is summer: bare feet or flip-flops or sandals, bathing suits, wind-tousled hair, lightweight clothes, sun basking, walking in a gentle rain, long daylight hours, peaceful sleepful nights, a reprieve from heating bills. The weekend is long or part of a vacation, festivals — someone else has done the planning! — are in place, for the taking or leaving. There are choices: to be in crowds sharing festivities . . . or to be alone enjoying outdoor recreation, sports, nature, no work. 
Public parks, beaches, boat landings, overlooks, and trails await within a short drive — large rewards for a little expenditure of ever more expensive gas. Or, maybe it's time to explore shops and boutiques, general stores and farm markets, galleries and museums, downtowns, side roads, and sidewalks. The 4th of July is family: members small and new, older and wiser, one's own, someone else's, families to belong to or just share the celebrations with — families gathered together for the day, watching parades, waiting for fireworks, excited, hopeful, by nightfall exhausted. The 4th of July is a picnic: hotdogs and hamburgers, chips and cones, foods handheld, and disposable dishes. Erratic hours for eating, relaxation on rules for sweets, carbs, calories, portions, going back for more throughout the afternoon. Somehow everything tastes better. The 4th of July is flags rippling, waving, at attention, resting — flags and bunting and red, white, and blue on cars and boats and floats and costumes. Flags signaling fun times, and flags for moments of great seriousness, for there are flags on the other side of the world waving over servicemen and women who must surely long to be celebrating the 4 
The 4th of July is a parade, many parades across the nation, many parades in this region of central Maine: music, marches, lawn chairs lined up along the route, hopefully in the shade. Music or the sirens — the always come first — set the pace. Smiles . . . waves as the floats and decorated bikes and baby carriages and go-carts and all the local business and community entries move by. Smiles . . . salutes from lawn chairs and curbsides and shoulder tops (oops, hard to get candy from up there). Everyone does love a parade. The 4th of July is fireworks: crowds gathering at dusk . . . seeking the best viewpoints, patient, quiet when that first burst appears. Oohs and aahs and necks tilted back, hopes for a long display until the grand finale. Burst upon burst of brilliant colors cascading against the sky. Everyone loves fireworks, too. They suggest a great sense of freedom — freedom that's celebrated on the 4th of July. All photos were taken at the 2004 Belgrade parade. | ||