How Am I Supposed To Celebrate The 4th Of July This Year?

I grew up in the “Fireworks Capital of America.”

My hometown of New Castle, Pennsylvania, has adopted the motto, as it’s home to not one, but two major fireworks companies. Displays at any local festival, sporting event, or town holiday celebration are always breathtaking. The town proudly displays the nickname on T-shirts and keychains, and in the early 2000s, they even erected firework statues in the middle of downtown. (I took my wedding photos in front of them. Don’t judge.)

You better believe the 4th of July is a big deal there, and I grew up loving Independence Day.

My parents would always host a cookout featuring the best summer foods: summer vegetables roasted on the grill, homemade cake made with fresh blueberries, and classic hot dogs and hamburgers. My dad would buy sparklers for us to write our names in the air, and it felt as though any time I looked into the sky, I could see fireworks spouting off from one direction or another, even before it got dark.

One of my earliest and happiest memories is attending the town's big 4th of July fireworks show with my best friend and her family. I remember sitting on a blanket on a warm summer night, witnessing magic in the sky — a sparkling display that seemed to go on forever. I never wanted it to end.

I have enjoyed past 4th of Julys with my kids. I was always hesitant to throw off their schedules by taking them to see fireworks after dark at their young ages, but we found other ways to celebrate.

For most of their childhoods, we lived in a house on a hill surrounded by woods. When our town shot off fireworks in a park below our home, we could just see them above the tree line. Each year, we’d wait until we heard them start, then run out to the porch in our PJs, straining to see as much as we could. When my daughter was 2, the noise scared her and she covered her ears, but her eyes were fixed on the fireworks, and with each new burst, she whispered the color she saw in the sky: “Red. Blue. Red. Green.” It was a simple tradition, but one my kids looked forward to... and I treasure those memories.

So this year, I’m having a hard time. I want my kids to know the joy I once felt celebrating the 4th of July, but I also can’t pretend everything is OK in America right now. I can’t stomach dressing my 4-year-old in red, white, and blue and attending a parade and waving a small flag with a smile on my face while democracy is crumbling.

How are we supposed to celebrate America’s birthday when, on any given day, we wake up to news that legislators are being assassinated and our president is ignoring court orders and families are being torn apart? I simply can’t bring myself to buy sparklers and eat hot dogs like nothing’s wrong. I just want to treat July 4 like any other normal day this year.

And so, I try to have some hope that it won’t always be this way.

A few weeks ago, I took my two older boys to a semi-pro soccer game. Before kickoff, a young woman walked onto the field with a microphone to sing the National Anthem.

Her voice was beautiful, and I expected tears to come, as they often do, when she got to the part about the bombs bursting in air, giving “proof through the night that our flag was still there.”

Instead, I glanced down at my kids, who were listening respectfully, thinking about how they pledge allegiance to that flag every day in school. I didn’t cry, but I did have a twinge of patriotism in that moment for what our flag used to represent, for what it represented when Francis Scott Key wrote the song — that we were a country of brave men and women fighting for justice, for one another.

I looked at my boys, hoping they too know that we are still that country deep down. I hope that by the time they’re grown, our country will truly be pledging liberty and justice for all.

Then I’ll once again be in the mood to spend a beautiful summer evening sitting on a blanket, listening to patriotic music, and watching those fireworks light up the sky.

Lauren Davidson is a Pittsburgh-based writer and editor focusing on parenting, arts and culture, and weddings. She has worked at newspapers and magazines in New England and western Pennsylvania and is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh with degrees in English and French. She lives with her editor husband, four energetic kids, and one affectionate cat. Follow her on Twitter @laurenmylo.