It’s hard to make a pithy rhyme off that, but I’m trying to poke some fun at the redneck-right and their attempts to appropriate Independence Day. A communal holiday celebrated via explosive displays which, in theory, should be the quintessential melting pot of our national diverse cultures, is instead interrupted by white trash in Silveradoes and F-150s, adorned in home-made signs profoundly and profusely pontificating perversely on the perceived injustices of whichever Democratic politician has sparked their ire at that particular moment, all while ignorantly violating the flag code while they tow a Chinese-made Old Glory from their trailer hitch in the dark and rain.
Prior to home ownership, Liz and I lived in Kettering. I consider it to be generally working class, and until recently it resonated with our lifestyle. And even after moving to Centerville, Kettering seemed more welcoming. Their public service personnel, city events, and general means of living felt ubiquitously middle class. But recently, it’s become more hostile. Through either our own increasing economic means which disconnect us, or Covid’s impact on the broader community, it now feels…trashy. Maybe “dilapidated” is a better word, but I’m not obligated to be particularly magnanimous towards unpleasant people on my own blog.
Anyway – between that and the post-Covid lackluster fireworks trend, the kid losing interest in family outings, and the city deciding to develop the little hill we always parked on for the event – we stopped going.
Then Liz reserved a table at Centerville High School, directly adjacent to where the city hosts their own fireworks, along with a number of food trucks. And aside from the standard menagerie of douchebag teenagers that would be expected at a school-hosted event, the populous was remarkedly less trashy. Also buying a table helped. Yes – money grants privilege (and creates a redneck paywall).
I like money. It lets me avoid people I don’t like.
And our proximity to the fireworks themselves restored for a moment that small bit of magic we all used to feel as little kids. So much so, in fact, that I snapped nary a photo. But I did manage two to mark the event:
The pettiness in me will gloat at this change in circumstances. The aforementioned white trash who try to claim the holiday as their own and take the opportunity to shun those who they deem as lesser Americans are in this case themselves excluded due to a fundamental American value: The American Dream. They’re priced out of the community and the events it holds.
It turns out that we’re the true Americans, (along with the plethora of Indians and Asians present at the event with us who also figured out how to succeed in the American economy). And I didn’t even need to make a poster to feel self-righteous.
Happy 4th!
–Simon