Born Two Weeks After the Fourth of July

So today is July 4 -- Independence Day. As a boy, it was one of my favorite holidays. My parents would typically pack a picnic basked, and take me, and a few friends, to see the fireworks at Salisbury Park, renamed later Eisenhower Park.  My Dad would have a running, funny commentary on the explosions in the sky -- "Spaghetti -- but no meat balls with that one!" and the after booms shook the ground.

I also loved it because I knew the MLB All Star Game would soon be played, and my birthday would follow in 2 weeks. Summers on LI were the best time for a kid, at least this kid.

As I got older, the holiday became what is now, looking back, an exercise in dangerous pyrotechnics. My friends and I , young teens, would start gathering firecrackers from illegal sellers, and then meet in Mark's bedroom where we would extract the gunpowder, pile it up, and make our own LARGE explosive fireworks. It's the sort of activity that today is probably a felony, but to bored, young teens seemed perfectly acceptable. Luckily, the only permanent damage is lingering hearing loss my friend Eric suffered when one of our devices went off too close to his head.

When we were 17, we all had fake IDs. I had discovered that my family's manual typewriter had the identical typeface to NY State Driver's licenses. Like master forgers, we typed over the 1 in 1961, making ourselves all 18. We took the forged documents to Beefsteak Charlies, where we drank all the wine, beer, and sangria we could pack in, and then walked to Eisenhower Park in search of girls as well as the fireworks. Hungover at the end of the evening, my Dad came to the Modell's across Hempstead Turnpike and loaded my crew into his enormous Olds 98 Regency -- probably knowing we were all coming off a drunk, but happy we were at least smart enough to not drive ourselves.

When the Ds were small, I would rent a room or rooms at the Biltmore in the Gables, along with a cabana. We would make believe we were gilded set folks -- swimming in the pool all day, and drinking. Often Mike and Loni would do the same -- those were terrific July 4 celebrations. At nightfall we would stroll onto the gold course and watch the fireworks, along with a symphony orchestra playing. Also lovely.

Well -- this year the 4th comes during the plague.  Still -- we plan to celebrate. D1 and Joey and the beautiful grandson are en route, along with D1's aging, spoiled Spaniel.  Hopefully D2 and Jonathan and their enormous puppy will join us later, and we can spend the day taking the baby, and maybe dogs, into the pool, and having a few adult beverages.

I was hoping to bring in gourmet burgers from Shula's, but learned they had closed -- another victim of the virus. But Anthony's Coal Fired is open, and so we'll have pizza, salads, meatballs, and wings -- even though last time they forgot the wings.

But mostly, we'll savor being together in this time of crisis.

And crisis time it is. New York seemed to have gotten better, and I read their cases are spiking again, too -- the most deaths and new cases reported yesterday in a month. Jeff's girl Sam is a first year resident at JMH -- and she got word that her hospital has gone into emergency mode -- all residents must work with the Covid patients for now -- specialties training will have to wait.

Our idiot president gave a speech at Mt. Rushmore yesterday -- barely mentioning the pandemic, and stoking the divisions in the country between his moronic supporters and those of us who think science is our way out of this mess.  I only hope that in 4 months at least we flush his odious self away, and the transition goes as it should, instead of becoming the second civil war.

So -- best I can do today is put the outside world out of our purview for awhile. I'll let the day be one of togetherness and love among our family. We'll raise a toast to the old USA -- long may She run.

And, Big Man willing -- I'll get to see my 59th birthday in a fortnight.