Happy Fourth of July! by Nancy L. Eady

I was casting about for topics to write about for Monday, June 29, and thought about writing something for the upcoming Fourth of July holiday, which will be the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. In doing so, I was trying to figure out exactly what a 250th anniversary is called. According to Google, some terms include “semiquincentennial,” “sestercentennial,” “quarter-millennium,” and “bisesquincentennial.” They all sound like a mouthful to me. Being of a precise nature (at least about some things), I wanted to know which was the “official” term, and turned to my beloved Oxford English Dictionary, only to learn that the OED does not include any of these terms among its definitions. 

So now I’m stuck trying to decide what to call the upcoming anniversary. “Quarter-millennium” sounds a bit too grand for my taste, and both “semiquincentennial” and “bisesquincentennial” are too long. To be honest, “sestercentennial” isn’t much better, but it is at least a little shorter. So “sestercentennial” it is. And how will I celebrate the upcoming holiday? 

My mother, sisters and I all live in different parts of Alabama. We rarely plan activities together for the Fourth of July, and the one time we did was a disaster.  But every year, we all watch “A Capitol Fourth” on PBS, including the fireworks show afterward. The only time the show ever disappointed me was the year I learned that Jack Everly, the conductor of the National Symphony Orchestra, was not formerly a member of the Everly Brothers, a popular music group in the 50s and 60s. That’s my own fault, not the fault either of the show or Mr. Everly. If you think watching fireworks on television is tame when compared to the real thing, doing anything outdoors in Alabama in July is something that you do only from necessity, not for pleasure. Humidity down here abates for no man (or woman.) 

It’s not particularly logical to feel closer to someone simply because you know that they are watching the same thing on television at the same time that you are, but that’s how it works in my family. We have a good time in the days following the show discussing it with each other over the phone. I have a similar feeling over Thanksgiving if I happen to be watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. The same is NOT true for the Iron Bowl (the annual football game between Auburn University and the University of Alabama.) I feel close to those members of the family who are also Auburn fans, but not the Alabama contingent. They’re rooting against my team, after all. We make up after the game is over though, win or lose. 

Wherever you are, and whatever you are doing at the time, I hope you enjoy your Fourth of July holiday as well. I’ll be thinking of you while I’m watching my show in my air-conditioned room. 

Together We Make a Family

by Julie Tollefson

On Wednesday, the high school cross country team my husband coaches gathered for its end-of-season banquet. Runners, parents, and siblings all come together for one night to eat too much pasta and far too many desserts. A bittersweet time, for sure. The knowledge that for the seniors this one piece of high school is forever behind them casts a tiny shadow over the celebration.

There’s a lot of silliness and storytelling and laughing, though, as the juniors give the seniors funny gifts and the seniors give mementos to coaches. This year’s gift to Coach T hit right in the heartstrings when the seniors presented a photo of themselves in a frame that said “Together We Make a Family.” One of the seniors opened her arms wide to encompass all of the runners and declared, “You are our second family!”

As we head into the holiday season, I’m thankful for all of the second families I’ve been part of over the years—from my journalism school classmates in college to the mystery writing community today.

One of my “families,” formed in those crazy years of early adulthood, has held together through more than three decades. We met in the newsroom of a daily newspaper, most of us in our first post-college jobs. And we grew up together, in those crucial early twenties years when you leave your parents and college behind, full of hope and grand plans and a reckless belief in a future you can only imagine.

Together, we’ve seen marriages and births. We’ve watched our own children grow, and most of them are in their twenties now. A few of us have lost parents. Some of us have moved away. All of us have taken other jobs.

But when we get together—as we will later this week for a funeral, the most family-like of all reasons—we’re still family.

I hope the cross country seniors form many lasting friendships—families—like these, because nothing compares to that feeling of belonging when you know you’ve found your people.

Who, or what, are you thankful for this holiday season?