The Great American Fourth of July

As I've written in previous years, our little town Near Philadelphia does Independence Day big-time. We don't ever call it that, though. It's Fourth of July. The decorated bicycle and stroller competition starts the day, followed by foot races and free hot dogs. In the afternoon the pool has special events, though we've not attended those in a good many years. The parade (this year was the 110th annual!) begins at 4 p.m. and people begin to stake out turf on the parade route on the evening of July 3. Our group put up a tarp this year and had a lot of real estate. The fireworks begin precisely at 9:15 (or 9:21 or 9:23, depending on the weather).

In between the parade and the fireworks, Joe and I host a planned pot-luck picnic and this year over thirty people ranging between six months and ninety-one (or ninety-two, depending on memory and math ability) were in attendance. They consumed brats, franks, and chicken along with beans, amazing serious salads, chips and dips, beans, and wonderful veggies. All of this is washed down with beer, old-fashioned sodas with interesting flavors (I'm partial to the cherry but sometimes deflect to the cream), and gallons of iced tea. Oh, and did I mention the beans? This year's offering had been cooked for hours and hours and were reflective of the effort involved; they were the hit sensation of the evening. Until we got to the desserts, featuring a genuine Spanish flan made by the 91-or-92-year-old.

All of this was glorious. But the best part was this:

All six of our grandchildren together and smiling for one brief shining moment! Left to right: Caroline, Aberdeen, Nate, Eli, Sam and Miles!
Life is Beyond Good (sorry, Ms. G)!