Remembering the 200th

I’m so old that I was beyond childhood at our country’s 200th birthday. I was a young, cynical grown baby boomer who thought all the hoopla was a little overdone. We all watched just three TV networks back then (four if you counted PBS, which was new and not widely watched). The bicentennial was touted and celebrated by all four starting in January, and the hype slowly built to a climax on the 4th.

I spent the 4th at my folks'. They were hosting a block party, something they had never done before. The driveway was filled with picnic tables. The cleaned-out garage contained tubs of ice and soda, the keg, and our ping pong table masquerading as a red, white, and blue buffet table. The front yard had four or five grills operating.

I had left for college six years earlier. I only knew about half of the neighbors who attended. The daytime highlight was the parade of decorated bicycles and tricycles. When the sun went down, the fireworks began. The only time we gathered around a television was to watch the tall ships enter New York Harbor.

For you young folks, the late sixties were no picnic. Vietnam divided us far more than Iraq or Afghanistan, and Watergate (the mother of all -gates) was only two years behind us in 1976. The bicentennial was an election year that would wrap with incumbent Gerald Ford losing to Jimmy Carter in November. But the first six months of 1976 were pure, nonpartisan, unified patriotism and pride.

Fifty years ago, notwithstanding three gut-wrenching assassinations (JFK, RFK, MLK), multiple summers of race riots, the Chicago Convention riot, campus anti-war riots, the Weather Underground, and the fall of Richard Nixon, we all could still love America and be genuinely thankful for being Americans.

Fifty years ago, the personal and the political were not yet mangled together. A feminist named Carol Hanisch had recently coined the regrettable phrase, but she was slightly ahead of her time. We still had silos back then. Our politics were in one silo. Our patriotism was in another. Our choice of friends had a separate silo, as did our taste in music, art, and entertainment.

Issues and people were not linked. No one thought they had to oppose policy X just because politician Y supported it. And, most importantly, patriotism was nonpartisan. Or, perhaps it should be phrased this way — all political parties unabashedly embraced patriotism.

No one talked about politics at my parents' block party. Neighbors could be neighbors without regard for politics. There were plenty of 4th of July concerts everywhere and no one cared about the political views of the entertainers. Republicans and Democrats did not attempt to have separate events. All patriotic events were politic-free zones.

Fifty years ago, only the mentally ill were deranged.

I have strived to keep my silos intact these last fifty years. Silos work well for me, and would work well for our country if more people used them. The personal has absolutely no business being political and vice versa. A country where neighbors can’t be friends unless their politics are in sync is un-American. In America, the patriotism silo includes assimilation. Assimilation extends the hand of friendship to all, regardless of politics.

A person with properly functioning silos can be angry or disappointed about American politics without being angry or disappointed about Americans. Fifty years ago, at least on our 200th birthday, all Americans loved all Americans.

Most of us hope that happens again this year as we blow out 250 candles. I don’t think it will.

We are still the luminous city on the hill, but our 250 candles burn less brightly than our 200 candles did in 1976. Those of us who remember 1976 will notice with regret.

G-Pub