Aselin

"The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires, and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more."





















Of course I love John Adams even though for most of my life I've been disappointed that his above statement hasn't turned out to be true. (It's my birthday) But how can you not love a guy who writes a 'to do' list and the second item from the bottom is "Declaration of Independency", yep THE Declaration of Independency - or Independence as we like to call it today. That's an impressive 'to do' list. All I've ever had on mine is 'buy milk', 'pick up kids', 'shave dog'. Nothing that would ever make historians sit up and notice.

So much of our history is taught through legend and lore. Was there really a cherry tree that got chopped down? Historians say, probably not. Did Thomas Jefferson write the Constitution? Well, some of it, but not the part we all know by heart. The preamble was written by a guy no one has heard of (unless you're a nerd) named Gouverneur Morris (PA). And how about this big celebration we're all about to have on July 4th. Isn't that the day that Thomas Jefferson signed his John Hancock on the aforementioned Declaration of Independence? Well, despite the memories of men who were there, historians have proven that Jefferson was shopping on July 4th and that the actual signing took place on August 8th.

So what's a girl to believe? I bought enough fireworks at Costco to singlehandedly light up the Utah sky in a couple of days. If I wait until August I will likely be arrested - for two reasons, I'll be back in Arizona where they are smart enough to ban consumer fireworks, and in August they'll be illegal in Utah as the window of permissibility will have closed by then. Since by some miracle I haven't yet been arrested, I'm going to light them all on the 4th with the rest of the crazies.


Being a pragmatist, I've realized some things in my old age. In theory it would be good to keep a detailed journal. This would have prevented Jefferson and Adams to later insist that the signing took place on the 4th. It would have saved us a whole lot of confusion. Yet, despite the confusion, the reality is, life goes on in the lore. The important part of the celebration is the sacrifice, the liberty, the miracle of the whole thing. Whether it happened on July 4th or August 8th is really of little consequence.

Which brings me to how this relates to me. I've lived to the ripe old age of 40. Many before me have crossed this milestone, and likely with more fanfare than I plan for the occasion. In the wisdom of the sage (me) I've realized that the moments and milestones that have made up that life are what should be celebrated. It is of little consequence which day they actually happened. It is of consequence that I remember the details. I report what I learned, share the color that has made me, me.

My kids don't care what day I competed in a beauty pageant. They do care that during the evening gown section I stepped on the netting of my dress, yanked my torso forward and ripped the dress a new train almost tipping my escort over. They don't care what day I landed in the Phoenix airport with my few month old baby. They do want to know every detail of when comedian Adam Sandler stopped me, cootchie cooed said baby and then and kissed the baby.

One day, the stories will be less for entertainment. They won't care to know the date of my first kiss, but they will want the details of it because they're experiencing their first love. They won't ask for an affidavit when our family moved from a beloved place to a new one, but they will want some support as they go through the same. They won't ask the date I attended my grandmother's funeral, but they will want to know my belief in the afterlife.

And it doesn't matter to me that by some monumental goof we celebrate the signing of our independence on the wrong day, it does matter that inspired brave men worked tirelessly, sacrificed greatly, and suffered mightily that they might win that independence.

What greater birthday gift could a girl ever want?