Happy pre-Independence Day, or as we like to call it in Utah, The-Pretend-Fourth-of-July-When-the-Actual-Day-Falls-On-A-Sunday. It’s our Faux Fourth.
Here in Utah, communities get to pick their Faux Fourth. They can pick the third, which our city did, or the fifth, which other cities did, but for all that is HOLY, PLEASE DO NOT CELEBRATE THE INDEPENDENCE OF OUR NATION AND SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE on a Sunday. Round here these parts, the only thing we do on Sunday is go to Church. Yup.
Okay, that’s not really true. More and more I see people out and about on Sunday, but the POWERS THAT BE do not let holidays, save religious ones like Easter and Christmas, fall on Sundays.
Today was our city parade, and I walked up from Birdman’s house so I could get some pictures of Dancing Daughter as she marched with her high school drill team. Lucky me, I got to stand behind the Family from Deliverance. It was a bit of a madhouse, so this was a plum spot. They had their eight-year-old daughter with them, and I bet she’s just on the cusp of getting her first tattoo. Oh, the rites of passage.
There’s just something heartwarming about diversity in the middle of Saintly Utah. I was especially gratified when one of the Deliverance Family picked up a piece of candy that had been thrown out to us (that is, you see, what they do in parades) and chucked it back at the head of one of the county commissioners. It grazed her butt, as she sat waving from the convertible, because he’d already had a few beers and his aim was off, and she looked a little confused. Me too. I wasn’t aware that was one of our Faux Fourth traditions.
I personally intend to celebrate the Fourth of July ON THE FOURTH OF JULY. The way I usually do. Quietly. Birdman and I are going fishing. I hope I catch a big one. I’ll try to get pictures. And avoid the Deliverance peeps.
I’ll avoid saying Happy Birthday America until tomorrow.