Well, if you are an American, I hope you had a blast on the 4th of July. I did. I stayed home and ate homegrown vegetables. Last night I watched the race from Daytona until 12:30 this morning, so I didn't have the energy to do much else.

On July 3rd, we drove out in the country where my daughter and her husband had organized an old fashioned 4th of July picnic in their churchyard. It was a beautiful setting with an old stone country church, a modern brick recreation building, a grove of black walnut trees and the mountains rising in the back ground. For history buffs, there was a graveyard filled with tombstones, some dating back well over a century.

There was food. Hotdogs and hamburgers with a variety of home made desserts. There was also cotton candy. Two bands showed up and took turns playing. I asked where those great musicians came from and was told, "Oh, they live aaround here." One lady sang Pansy songs. Lightning may strike me, but I thought she did them better than Patsy.

Someone brought a restored 50 year-old Farmall tractor and a collector brought three 1960's Corvairs. If I'd known they were having stuff like that, I'd have brought a couple of 50 year-old Cushmans. The fire department sent a firetruck and a safety demo trailer.

There was a dunking machine and a waterslide for the kids, but no fireworks. One man brought a collection of handmade dulcimers.

There was a Keystone cop who made little animals out of balloons, and somebody in a big yellow bug suit. Mostly we just sat around under the walnut trees and listened to the music while we ate and ate. Until now, I had never thought of the 4th of July as relaxing.
Howard