354. Happy Fifth of July

Today is the 5th of July, the day my grandfather Noble passed away in 1987. He was 80. Today also marks the birthday of my friend Dan Borsch, who is somewhere near 31, although I am just guessing. Happy Birthday Dan.

Yesterday, of course, was the Fourth of July, the 232nd birthday of the Republic. I began the morning as I have for years, gathering with other local Democrats (although not too many this year) for the Louisville-Jefferson County Democratic Party's Annual Reading of the Declaration of Independence. This event was started many years ago and is held in front of the World War II Memorial on the Court House lawn at Fifth and Jefferson streets.

The weather this year was ominous with clouds all around and rain here and there. Although an alternate site had been arranged, it was decided that we would proceed at the original location.

Jefferson County Democratic Party Chair Tim Longmeyer opened with brief and appropriate remarks. The Declaration was divided up into five parts and the reading commenced. Congressman John Yarmuth began, followed by Jefferson County PVA Tony Lindauer, followed by me, followed by Jeff Derouen who serves as Chief of Staff for Lieutenant Governor Dan Mongiardo and is a resident of Okolona in Jefferson County. The final reader was Party Chair Tim Longmeyer. The event was closed with a singing of the National Anthem, led by Tony Lindauer. I've always enjoyed this event, whether the crowd was large or small - today's was small.

Later in the day, I trekked the 12 or 13 miles which separate me from my mother's house, where, knowing I had a day off from work, she has a list of things-to-do, some of which I got done. I'll do more today, and probably more tomorrow. We eventually had a typical July 4th meal of Hot Dogs and Macaroni Salad.

As I left her house in far southern (and suburban) Jefferson County, I made my way through several different subdivisions (Rowland Park, Woodcreek, Timber Glen, and Briar Cliff) on my course to I-65. Following I-65, I exitted at Jackson Street, coursing through the (urban) neighborhoods of Shelby Park, Smoketown, and my own, which at one time was called Clarksdale, but it usually referred to now as the East Market Street district. In any event, it occurred to me as I was crossing all these ethnic, racial, social, economic, and geographic divides, that all of us tend to celebrate this one day a year the same way.

While we may do Christmas different based on religious or family traditions, and birthdays are either celebrated wildly or sometimes not at all (two days ago a friend told me she was celebrating the 21st Anniversary of her 31st birthday), and Thanksgiving may mean travelling to grandmas or reservations at the Galt House, the Fourth of July is typically done the same by everyone who celebrates it - food, family, and fireworks. Maybe we owe the fireworks thing to Francis Scott Key, who penned the words "the rockets red glare, bombs bursting in air." Even with all the rain and fog and mist, there were plenty of both last night here along the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606. Chances are you had the same experience.