When We Began to Lose America

When I woke this morning, the first thing I heard was a young child in the street yelling, “It’s the Fourth of July, everybody!”

That instantly brought back memories of my own childhood and the excitement of July Fourths past.
That’s where the reminder ended, however. That child was instantly shushed, by a parent, I presume, and the neighborhood was quiet the rest of the morning.
In the town where I grew up, by midmorning on the Fourth of July the residential neighborhoods would be beehives of activity getting ready for the annual Fourth of July parade. There were final touches to be put on floats (each block made one), costumes to be put on, instruments to tune and routines to practice one last time. Cont. Reading