Fourth of July
I spent my Fourth of July in Alabama at my friend Eric's lakehouse, watching a thunderstorm mix with the fireworks around us. We all agreed the storm outdid our paltry offering of burning magnesium and phosphorus. Such is the struggle.
The next morning we awoke with dry mouths and red eyes, searching for a drink to equal the light and the width of our pupils. Skipping breakfast we hit the water and spent the next few hours wakeboarding, every run being a deritive of 'awesome' (if not the blessing itself) and was always followed by a heartfelt thanks to the driver. We all watched a bald eagle circle above us while on the water, riding the thermals above the blue of the water, the green of the evergreens, the soft notes of "Hotel California" playing on the radio.
Eating barbacue chicken I couldn't help but think that this WAS America. The extroverted Broyles family with their constant games and entertainment, the lack of conversation that qualifies beyond "shooting the shit", the eternal flow of alcohol measured and poured by the women in the kitchen, us boys being boys, setting up a slip and slide and living our continual childhood.
That night we went to the Wedowee County Rodeo, grimaced at the schtick of the clown and laughing at the children dressed up as mini-Marlboro men. The MC of the rodeo introduced the Star Spangled Banner as the greatest song ever written and followed it with a prayer to our Lord Jesus Christ. The asked Him to bless the events about to transpire.
It was America in colors. Red, white, and blue - John-Deere green, the brown of the rodeo arena trampled beneath horses that spoke of deserts thousands of miles to the west. In the night air, insects circled in a land of their own above the small crowd. The flew in a frenzy that could not be followed - fighting each other for each other, stretching for the burning touch of death found in the spotlights and the uncertain oblivion that would follow.
Our tired eyes followed them ceaselessly. At the end of the night weary legs carrying too much weight moved for the vehicles that had surely put them in debt and drove off into the America that sheltered us all in her ever-tightening embrace. It was Her birthday and we had sacrificed it all for her while thousands far away from home wondered if we were singing with them in this land of the brave, the colors flowing above giving away finally to the black of the night and the shouts of light that blinked at our great country.
The next morning we awoke with dry mouths and red eyes, searching for a drink to equal the light and the width of our pupils. Skipping breakfast we hit the water and spent the next few hours wakeboarding, every run being a deritive of 'awesome' (if not the blessing itself) and was always followed by a heartfelt thanks to the driver. We all watched a bald eagle circle above us while on the water, riding the thermals above the blue of the water, the green of the evergreens, the soft notes of "Hotel California" playing on the radio.
Eating barbacue chicken I couldn't help but think that this WAS America. The extroverted Broyles family with their constant games and entertainment, the lack of conversation that qualifies beyond "shooting the shit", the eternal flow of alcohol measured and poured by the women in the kitchen, us boys being boys, setting up a slip and slide and living our continual childhood.
That night we went to the Wedowee County Rodeo, grimaced at the schtick of the clown and laughing at the children dressed up as mini-Marlboro men. The MC of the rodeo introduced the Star Spangled Banner as the greatest song ever written and followed it with a prayer to our Lord Jesus Christ. The asked Him to bless the events about to transpire.
It was America in colors. Red, white, and blue - John-Deere green, the brown of the rodeo arena trampled beneath horses that spoke of deserts thousands of miles to the west. In the night air, insects circled in a land of their own above the small crowd. The flew in a frenzy that could not be followed - fighting each other for each other, stretching for the burning touch of death found in the spotlights and the uncertain oblivion that would follow.
Our tired eyes followed them ceaselessly. At the end of the night weary legs carrying too much weight moved for the vehicles that had surely put them in debt and drove off into the America that sheltered us all in her ever-tightening embrace. It was Her birthday and we had sacrificed it all for her while thousands far away from home wondered if we were singing with them in this land of the brave, the colors flowing above giving away finally to the black of the night and the shouts of light that blinked at our great country.