Beyond the Hot Dogs

It’s that hot, happy time all over the United States that is so full of hot dogs, hamburgers and chips, mustard on your fingers and canned drinks that used to be really cold. Waving everywhere on little sticks are more little flags than, well, you can shake a stick at. Today’s parades will have costumed Uncle Sams, excited youngsters, firetrucks bearing peppy cheerleaders and car dealers’ convertibles carrying presumed dignitaries who look vaguely familiar waving to people they really don’t know. Tonight will see tons of fireworks exploding above thousands of upturned faces, briefly illuminated as they ooh and aah and, in more humid regions, offer themselves as living sacrifices to insect hordes.

The Fourth of July is an all-around absolutely grand time that doesn’t really seem to have much to do anymore with what it celebrates--the fragile founding of probably the greatest experiment in self-government in world history. On this day in 1776 the Continental Congress rendered official the Thomas Jefferson text of the Declaration of Independence. The manuscript was rushed to John Dunlap, who made 200 plainly set printed copies to send across the little country. TV producer Norman Lear recently bought one of 25 surviving copies for more than $8 million and, in a fine public service, plans another, considerably larger national tour.

The reality in 2001 is that relatively few Americans grasp how truly precarious was this new national endeavor on that first Fourth, how radical were these newly published precepts, how unlikely victory seemed, how at risk were the founders.

Sometimes we think we appreciate a parent or grandparent or maybe even our own good health. And then one day what we thought we appreciated is somehow gone forever and the word “appreciate” takes on a much deeper meaning. That’s the feeling that ought to rise in our heads and hearts for a few minutes today.

Anyone who’s ever talked with a refugee gets an inkling of that appreciation. Maybe it’s someone who fled into a very large ocean in a very small boat to get here. Or someone from a place where armed soldiers line the streets like bus stops.

These new arrivals knew only about the idea that started on a long-ago Fourth of July. And when they risk everything to come to this place that we so assuredly know will always be here, one thing is very sure: These newcomers are not coming for the hot dogs and beer. Chew on that while you’re in line today for a second helping.