July 4

In Michigan

At noon we gathered at the Mercke House that sits high on the bluff, where the open front porch and yard overlook the expanse of the lake. Generations of families assembled loosely outside, young and old reacquainting with friends and reminiscing of days and years past.

The sunshine glistened on the lake, and from this height it was easy to spot the shifting winds, patterns of darkened water which moved across the surface along with shaded areas of cloud cover that made a patchwork of light and dark.

We are celebrating here, as we have done for over forty years; family and friends present and many only in memory, sharing our lives and our commitment to this place and this time, yet paying our deepest respect to the liberties that we enjoy.

Shortly, Nat reads a portion of the Declaration, and the faces of the crowd register a mixture; the adults are somewhat reverent, while the children fidget and giggle at the reading, some resorting to playing tag or spying upon one another.

I have witnessed this same scene for over forty years, and my own giggles of long ago have been replaced with a profound sense of appreciation. As Nat reads, it is easy to become distracted from the words, and I scan the faces of people I have known my entire life – friends who have grown older with the years, and children who are yet the next generation. The reverence I feel at this moment is enhanced by an overwhelming sense of belonging, to these people, to this place, and to these rituals.