Hunker Down with Kes: An Unsuspected Fourth of July Postscript

It came out of nowhere. And good golly, I was not prepared. 

I had fixed an old Coca-Cola clock movement that had a loose clutch on the center arbor. I got it back together and was letting it run a little before putting it back in the case.

The morning had passed quickly. I noted it was a beautiful Fourth of July day as I made the short walk from the clock room to the house. But honestly, my mind was more on clocks this morning than the storied history of our country’s first 250 years.

Cathy and I had enjoyed a busy week before with grandchildren visiting. We were both looking forward to a quiet and peaceful Independence Day. I moseyed down the hall to the back bedroom where Cathy was putting on clean sheets. She looked up and smiled….

I started crying. And couldn’t stop.

The Fourth of July was Daddy’s favorite holiday. By far! He was OK with Christmas. He sure paid for a lot of presents over the years. Thanksgiving meant family. And, in his eyes, there was nothing wrong with that. He thought Halloween was silly. And he worked right through Labor Day. 

Cathy somehow knew immediately. She had been listening to the stories for 52 years. She stood quietly beside me, understood completely…that my soul had taken flight.

Daddy wasn’t like any other normal human on Independence Day. He cherished being an American. He loved our small town, but he loved the big cities, too. “They got every right to enjoy their lives, just like we do, son.”

He didn’t talk about the rich history of our country. He didn’t talk about carrying on old family traditions. He didn’t debate you on living in the South versus the North. He didn’t talk sitting around the pot belly stove up at the service station about all the things that were wrong with America. Like so many were inclined to do….

He felt that he was doghouse lucky to live here. In this nation. And he said so!

Daddy also didn’t talk about folks that were different, strange, or down and out in our little community. He just went and helped them. And believe me, those early years when we first lived out at the end of Stonewall Street, it was sometimes hard to find someone further down and out than we were!

He felt it was a hallmark of America. We were all neighbors…the absolute very least we could do was act like it. He was so quiet you’d have to follow him around a mite before you realized how much he cared.

He was no pushover. By any stretch of the imagination! He did what was right. And he expected others to do the same. But he gave folks in all walks of life lots of rope before he’d give up on them. 

He bled red, white, and blue every day of the year.

But he stepped up for the Fourth of July. I believe it was more than the barbeque, baked beans, and watermelon. And you’ve never seen anyone in your life stand more still, or with more respect, when an American flag was presented. 

Me, Leon, and David Mark knew from our (same) cradle the Star-Spangled Banner was the most important song in his life. We listened to it every Fourth of July up on the town square.       

The high school band would hit the first note, and the Colbert family would be lined up like stepping stones, with our hands over our hearts. We were so ramrod straight if someone had touched us, we might have broken half in two. 

It was only a few years after World War II. A bunch of the men would wear their uniforms as they celebrated our Independence, which I thought was so neat. Dad didn’t. It just wasn’t his way. He spent two and a half years in the South Pacific. He fought in eight major invasions beginning in New Guinea as his unit “island hopped” its way to the Philippines.

Daddy for sure had an understanding of what it cost for us to eat the barbeque and share the joys of the day as “one Nation under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all” better than most. But he never said much about that either.

He simply loved this country with all his heart. He was proud to be here. To work here. To raise a family here. And you’d better believe it rubbed off on his three sons….

The tears were for him. Oh, if I could just one more time stand in my place between Leon and David on that wonderful town square. I would break every National Anthem rule in the book and let my eyes wander from the flag….to my Father’s determined image as he honored HIS country!  

It would be the memory of a lifetime that I missed the first time around.

You know, I never one time thanked him for any of it.

But I sure got the message….

Loud and Clear,
No. 2 Son
kesley45@aol.com