Sunday, July 5, 2009

An open letter

The Fourth of July with my family has become as much of a tradition as Christmas and Thanksgiving. The food, the stories that are told, the Boston Pops, it's all a part of the fun.
This time around, I brought the crew with me and that was thrilling because that meant tours of the wall of fame and the crazy steps up a notch.
My grandparents live on a golf course and so each year, as we have for many years, we headed out to the golf greens to watch the fireworks from the hills. Of course, this year, Sam Moon has bought the golf course. So Mr. Cheap Jewelry puts signs up everywhere that say we can't get on the greens. There was much concern. Until we just sat there anyways and had a lovely time. People were sitting all over the place. Take that Mr. Moon! Unpatriotic jewelry mogul. I should write a letter.
"Dear Mr. Moon:
Though you have tried your hardest to thwart the American spirit, we have prevailed. Much like our forefathers before us, we have prevailed. Even when you turned the sprinklers on during the fireworks, trying to dampen the patriotism of tax paying Americans, we have prevailed. Those people, though slightly more wet, stood in that wet grass and watched those fireworks. We sat on that grass and cheered the big explosions of red, green, and yellow. We have prevailed. Mr. Moon. You may have cheap jewelry and knock-off handbags, but we have prevailed none the less. The American ideal has won. Next year, if you turn the sprinklers on, I will stomp and slosh through the grass until there are giant pot marks on your perfect little golf greens. I will jam the backs of my lawn chairs in until there are grooves that golf balls can not escape. I will personally see to it that urine, mine or someone else's, ends up on the putting greens. Why? Because this is America. We have a right to fireworks. We celebrate with the Boston Pops. We dance the Sweet Caroline with Neil Diamond on television. We are Americans. And we are Brinsons. Don't mess with our holidays."

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