Celebrating the 4th of July, Part II

When you're in your seventies, it becomes clear that you are no longer the center of your family.  When holidays roll around, they are not necessarily going to invite you to their party, because 1) they're with the inlaws, or 2) they're hoping you'll have them over, or 3) they're doing stuff with their friends.

I was caught off guard last Christmas Eve when Tom and I were alone with each other for the first time in many years of Christmas Eve.  What to do?  We went to a movie.  There are actually quite a few people at the movies on Christmas Eve. Once you get used to the shame of being without family on Christmas Eve, a movie is pretty darn fun.

I do feel an obligation to entertain at Thanksgiving and Christmas but after that, I have turned into my mother, who thought holidays were just another way for marketers to make you spend your money. (If my mother weren't dead, she'd drop dead to see how people now celebrate Halloween).

Anyhoo, I planned for the 4th of July this year, because I knew that otherwise we wouldn't know it WAS the 4th of July.  I bought Tom and me tickets to the Salt Lake Bees.  I love night baseball.  And also, the Bees have a sensational fireworks show after the game.  The Bees lost.  The fireworks were everything we wanted. Tom put his arm around me and we recalled memorable fireworks of the past:  on the ag campus at the University of Minnesota, at Turtle Bay in Hawaii, across the street from our American Towers condo, at the Plaza Hotel in NYC when it reopened, from windows in Berlin, Germany and last but not least, from our house above BYU looking onto the Stadium of Fire for ten great years.

You and me, Tom.