Happy Birthday, America (and Jack)
Featuring More Pee-Related Anecdotes Than You Would Think (One)
Today is America’s 248th birthday.
It’s my son’s first.
America
America’s first birthday was July 4, 1777. In what would have gone down as an all-time jinx had the colonies lost the war, Philadelphia celebrated by adjourning Congress and lighting bonfires, ringing bells, and setting off fireworks. The Sons of Liberty set off fireworks over Boston Common. Mary Gould Almy, a British sympathizer (“Tory” or “monarchist swine”) wrote of Rhode Island’s celebration: “This being the first anniversary of the Declaration of the Independency of the Rebel Colonies, they ushered in the morning at [Bristol] by firing 13 cannons, one for each colony, we suppose. At 12 o’clock the three Rebel Frigates that lie at and near Providence fired 13 guns, and at one [o’clock] 13 guns were fired from their fort at Howland’s Ferry [Tiverton]. At sunset, the Rebel Frigates fired another round of 13 guns each, one after the other. As the evening was very still and fine, the echo of the guns down the bay had a very grand effect…”
I wonder what that celebration felt like; whether they celebrated because they felt like they had started something that would stand the test of time, or whether they celebrated because they felt that they hadn’t—that they should celebrate then while they had the chance. Or maybe they celebrated because they’d made it a year, and a year is worth celebrating—you don’t have to know how things will end to justify lighting off some fireworks. They couldn’t have known how it would end; not really, at least. The turning point of the war—not that they could have seen it as such—didn’t come until later that year at the Battles of Saratoga.
I wonder if they—the rebels, the soldiers, the women and children at home supporting them—felt much hope. I wonder if the Loyalists remained confident the Empire would prevail. I wonder what it felt like for the slaves—whether they hoped a change in leadership might make a difference. I wonder what it felt like for the Native Americans.
Jack
It’s a curious thing, having a child born on the fourth of July. There are so many other days on which a child can be born—heck, Jack wasn’t due to debut until July 25th. Do I think his being born on July 4th means something, that his birthday imbues him with some sort of particularly American destiny? Well, no—that would be ridiculous. If it wasn’t random for him to be born on the 4th, it sure looked random: it was only after Kaylee (my wife) suffered a series of blood pressure spikes that the doctors scheduled an induction date, and only after the spikes worsened that they moved the date up.
But at the same time, it’s hard to have a kid on July 4th in New York City and not come out of it feeling pretty darn American, like the internal patriotism tank got a refill.
It’s been a fun year. I must say—Jack’s judgment isn’t incredible: earlier this week, I was with him alone at my parents’ house in Salt Lake. I had to use the restroom, which put me in a bit of predicament. I couldn’t leave him outside the bathroom—no telling what he could do in an unattended minute—and I also couldn’t just not pee (not with my overconsumption of water and weak constitution), so I brought him in with me and put him by the shower at the other end, maybe seven feet from the toilet. As soon as I began exercising my constitutional right to pee standing up (huge mistake), Jack made a mad dash to the side of the toilet and began trying to climb up.
Picture this (or, better yet, don’t): I vainly tried to keep him at bay with my right hand and leg—taking care not to push him into the metal sink or topple him onto the tile floor—while my left hand remained occupied in keeping my aim true. Aborting the mission was not an option—the stream was far too strong. For what felt like an eternity, we battled—he refused to relent in his quest to get his hands on the toilet bowl.
You know how sometimes you’re at a party carrying an overfull drink and taking care not to spill, then you start to lose control and, panicking, end up overreacting and tripping into the refreshments table while also pouring the drink on your neighbor?
Yeah. I tried to close my pants just a bit early (i.e., a bit before the message that the path was closing got to my nether regions), and Jack got both hands on the bowl. Fail and fail. Oh well.
America
This is an interesting time for America. I’m not sure it’s a particularly bad time, whatever you think of our presidential candidates—without minimizing current troubles, I think we wouldn’t make a trade for the Civil War or the Great Depression. But we do live in strange times.
So, on this July 4th, on this national birthday, maybe don’t think about politics; don’t think about who you’ll be voting for in November and what the next four years will look like if your candidate wins or loses. Or, maybe, do think about it: think about how America was great and isn’t now, or was great and is still, or was never great and doesn’t stand to be anytime soon. Go to a parade or start a protest. Speak ill of protestors or of the protested. Watch or light off fireworks in childlike awe or write about them in angry all-caps messages on Facebook.
I am a huge baseball fan. For years, the sport has been going through something of a culture war between old and new, between the unwritten rules and a certain “been there, done that” attitude, often associated with American players, and a more flamboyant, demonstrative style usually associated with Latin American players. Each side has its champions and adherents. Personally, though, I’m a fan of the conflict: we don’t need old or new to win. What we need is for both old and new to care.
We don’t know what things will look like in America come November, or next July 4th, or 248 July 4th’s from now, but I think we can say with some confidence that people are going to fight about it.
So, today, take a moment to cheer for the conflict and for a country that allows it.
Or don’t—it’s your choice, which I suppose is kind of the point.
Non-Random Fact
Our current 50-star flag was designed as part of a high school project by 17-year-old Robert Heft. It was 1958, and there were only 48 states at the time, but Heft had a hunch Hawaii and Alaska would soon be granted statehood. His teacher gave him a B– but went on to update the grade to an A after Heft submitted his design to the White House. On July 4, 1960, his school project became the official U.S. flag.
Non-Random Recommendation
America Challenge (Most Demanding): Read the Federalist Papers, the 85 essays written by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay in support of the Constitution’s ratification (yes, the 4th is about the Declaration of Independence, not the Constitution, but still).
America Challenge (Not Demanding): Watch Hamilton on Disney Plus.
America Challenge (Even Less Demanding): Watch National Treasure.
Subscriber Update
On this, Never Close the Inquiry’s first July 4th, the newsletter has 137 subscribers. By next July 4th, I expect to have somewhere between 138 and 400,000.