Ring a bell, raise the flag and grill, grill, grill …

Oh and don’t forget the ice cream.

It’s the American way. How blessed we are to be Americans.

I know for most of my life I have only thought of July 4 as a time for picnics, family gatherings, and homemade ice cream (and I still look forward to my favorite orange/pineapple sherbet cream packed tightly in a hand churned freezer) – but finally I can add to my holiday a time of reflection to uplift our precious freedom as only Americans are blessed to enjoy.

I think now that I have achieved the status of Baby Boomer, Me Maw, and early retiree, (not an elder, you know, but the new 60) I have the maturity to see, and appreciate the long history of our freedom, and the price paid.

Undoubtedly, you will read these same sentiments over and over during the week of Independence Day celebrations. I know I have read like-commentaries my entire life, but only, perhaps, reading the words and not the meaning. I should have been more attentive to the pursuits of freedom as I have a long line of soldiers in my family.

In addition to my Revolutionary War gggggrandfathers, in my family-line are Civil War soldiers, Spanish-American War, World War I and World War II, and most importantly, my son has served in the Middle East for many tours of duty.

I ask. What took me so long? I may have the answer.

Could I have taken my freedom for granted? As Americans, are we spoiled? The event of 911 was sobering, and that goes without saying, as it allowed us to rethink our sacred ground that actually was attacked by enemies, those who hate us, but at the same time, want what we have.

FREEDOM IS NOT A GIFT, BUT HAS BEEN BOUGHT WITH THE BLOOD OF OUR PATRIOTS.

I am reminded of a Children’s Choir, from the Philippines, who visited Meridian several years ago. We enjoyed the sweet voices of the children as they harmonized, and gave a special feeling of a peaceful life, but we soon learned of a different lifestyle as their leader shared the war torn strife of their short lives.

The children were orphans – each one losing their parents to years of war and bloodshed – a life of horror and death. Their leader begged, “Please give us your garbage, just give us your garbage, and we could live a much better life.”

Can you imagine? A request for what Americans throw away, pack in landfills, burn, dissimilate, haul to the junkyard, and worst of all, litter. It was a request for our overload of luxury so unappreciated that we throw it away. I am as guilty as the next one, but I promise to do better. I hope you will, too.

Oh, I complain about the cost of gas, about the potholes on my well-traveled routes around town, and the state. I have been heard to yakkity-yak about little unimportant trivias, as we all have, but I hope, I really hope to make a change for the better – to appreciatively come face-to-face with our abundant American life, a life as planned by our Founding Fathers, a life of freedom, and the joy of democracy, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

As I write this afternoon, my mind is humming many patriotic tunes. “It’s a Grand Ole Flag,” “The Stars and Stripes Forever,” plus my personal favorite, “Star Spangled Banner.”

O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light, What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming, Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight O’er the ramparts we watch’d were so gallantly streaming? And the rocket’s red glare, the bomb bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there, O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

-Francis Scott Key, 1814

I hope you are humming, too.

Anne B. McKee is a Mississippi historian, writer and storyteller. She is listed on the Mississippi Humanities Speakers Bureau and Mississippi Arts Commission’s Performing Artist and Teaching Artist Rosters. See her web site: www.annemckeestoryteller.com