Why do we do it?

There's something terribly satisfying about the way a sharp knife slices through a banana. Maybe all knives seem sharp when pitted against that firm yellow skin and soft white flesh. There's no doubt about who wins the clash of steel versus banana, but a nice clean cut evokes a sense of satisfaction not to be found in attacking the fruit with a less keen instrument such as a spoon or a shoe. So when I assisted some other gentlemen in preparing an Independence Day breakfast for the community, I did not mind putting several bunches of bananas, as well as a multitude of muffins to the knife.

Later, we attended the Fourth of July parade; it's actually the Veteran's Parade. Weiser is a small town. The big parade happened a couple weeks ago during the annual Fiddle Festival. The parade for the Fourth of July would be laughable in comparison, if it were not so serious. The local veterans gather at one end of State Street near the train depot. The spectators line both sides of the street. With a police escort, the color guard followed by the rest of the veterans march up the street for less than a quarter of a mile to Veteran's Park; those no longer able to march ride on a flatbed trailer decorated with flags. The spectators salute the flag and applaud the veterans. The parade passes by any given point for about 45 seconds.

The parade concludes beneath an American Flag hanging from the extended ladder of a firetruck. Afterward, an old flag (from the flagpole) is retired, and a new flag raised in its place. Local talent sings the Star Spangled Banner; the community later joins in singing God Bless America. The veterans introduce themselves, giving their name, rank and years of service. The spectators applaud after each introduction.

So why do we do this? Apparently others have asked themselves this question, and were unable to find a satisfactory answer. This year the number of spectators was the smallest that I have seen during my years as a member of the community. In previous years, a lunch of hamburgers, chips, and watermelon provided by the town at no cost after the parade drew a large number of people. Also, a fly-over by military jets, offered a brief visual spectacle. Perhaps those who have asked themselves why, and who did not attend this time, have found other ways or other places that provide a more fulfilling answer. Some, perhaps, simply don't know the answer--the summer soldiers and hamburger patriots, as Thomas Paine might call them today.

Tonight we will celebrate with fireworks displays, both public and personal. We celebrate our nation's birth, and mark that inevitable sliding away of summer, sweltering days speeding toward harvest, autumn, and the return to school. The fireworks are a tradition that can be traced back to John Adams' letter to Abigail about the Declaration of Independence; the fireworks displays began the following year in 1777.

Adams' letter also mentions parades as a form of celebration. But why do we do this parade? Why a parade of a handful of veterans, whose number shrinks with each passing year? Maybe the answer varies for each of us. To borrow from the words of Patrick Henry, "I know not what course others may take, but as for me," I do it because I am minting memories. We take this hot summer day and put it beneath the steel press of patriotism, stamping upon it the indelible impression of our flag and national identity; we remember the blood and treasure spilled to obtain and to secure the liberty and inalienable rights upon which this nation was founded; we honor not only the founding fathers, but those still living among us who have served to secure the freedoms for which so many have given the last full measure of devotion. There is plenty of time for pleasurable pursuits, but short is the time to honor those who have offered more than mere lip service to liberty. This parade and the community participation is one way for me to honor, and to teach my children to honor and appreciate liberty, and those who protect it.

Today we honored veterans of many conflicts, including the 96 year old crew chief for a fighter squadron who took the time to speak personally with my family. He joined in 1942. He remembered D-Day, telling us about the vapor trails that filled the sky from the passage of some 11,000 aircraft going and coming between Normandy that day. He proudly wore his black hat with "World War II Veteran" embroidered upon it. He remembered; we listened. What a great day.