Some Thoughts on the Fourth By Margaret S. Hamilton

Bright red geraniums stand tall in their pots, planted with cascades of white petunias and spikes of blue salvia, lined up on front steps all over town in celebration of the Fourth. Star-spangled bunting draped on porch railings, every house flying an American flag.

Except mine. Last summer, someone stole my father’s bicentennial stars and stripes flag, the number “76” encircled by thirteen stars on its blue field, plus its pole, from my street-side mailbox.

Many other houses in the area were hit by the flag thief. Why steal a flag? Flags can’t be fenced, like jewelry or electronics. I was outraged and saddened. I expect political signs to be snatched from my yard. Ohio elections are contentious. We take the time and spend a few dollars to replace them. I rummaged around and found an American flag I’ll fly from a bedroom window. I defy our local flag thief to scale the brick façade to grab it.

As a writer, I draw on material from a lifetime of events. I channeled my frustration about the theft into a recent Kings River Life short story about a flag thief. I am blessed (or cursed) with insatiable curiosity; in my story, I explore the history of the uniquely shaped Ohio state flag, as well as the American flag with seventeen stars when Ohio gained statehood in 1803.

I’ve celebrated the Fourth with fireworks in many places—summer YMCA camp in the Poconos, on Cape Cod beaches, overlooking Santa Monica Bay in Los Angeles, with the Cleveland Symphony at Blossom Music Festival. In Atlanta, we sat on the curb of the Alpharetta Highway and devoured ice cream. Now we’re in Cincinnati, a thirty minute walk from two venues, the fireworks show not until ten o’clock, when it’s finally dark on the far edge of the Eastern Time zone.

We’ve enjoyed performances of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” performed with fireworks, clanging bells, and cannon fire. In 1974, Arthur Fiedler realized it was the perfect piece for a Boston Pops July Fourth performance, though it celebrates Napoleon’s retreat from Russia, not our War of 1812. In the overture, the spirited tune of “La Marseillaise” is gradually overcome by the statelier “God Save the Czar.” On Independence Day it’s all about celebrating victory from oppression.

In our family, the Fourth isn’t complete without a road race—in Atlanta, the 70,000 runner Peachtree Road Race on what is one of the hottest days of summer. In Cincinnati, a local 10K with a killer hill.

Hamburgers and hotdogs are popular all over the States. We ate grilled salmon with peas in the West. Fried chicken and biscuits in the South. Grilled brats and hot potato salad in the Midwest. Homemade ice cream with cherry pie. Sheet cake iced in white, decorated with strawberries and blueberries. Luscious slices of juicy watermelon. And with Michigan blueberries readily available in Cincinnati, blueberry muffins.

Readers, how do you celebrate the Fourth?

Margaret S. Hamilton writes cozy stories and traditional amateur sleuth novels set in a small Ohio town and Louisiana. She lives in the Cincinnati suburbs.