I sat at my desk a few days ago and read a poem titled "Celebration 76." The poem just happened to be about the year I graduated from high school, 1976. That was one fantastic year, not because I graduated, but because of all the celebrations that were going on.

There were costume parties, pool parties, dance parties, masquerade balls, and fire works celebrations every time you turned around. Every celebration you heard of, and any celebration you went to had something to do with the Bi-Centennial, 200 years of America being "The Land of Freedom."

I'll never forget my home town's celebration that year. It was an all day shin dig, for all of you big city stuffed shirts out there, that's the way we say "big celebration" out in the country. They had a big square dance the morning of July 4th. All of the dignitaries from the town council were dressed in drag. Each one was dressed as...you guessed it, good ole Betsy Ross. What a hoot!

After the square dance, there were fish fries, barbecues, chili cook offs, and any other type of food you wanted you could probably find being cooked somewhere in town. Everything that was happening that day was carefully planned out. It was progressing from celebrations of least importance, to those that were the most important.

The gang from our local chess club decided to get together at Dairy Queen and have an internal chess tournament. We did that quite often simply to boost our status in the national Chess Federation's rankings. Aside from boosting our rankings, we were killing time while waiting for the next celebration.

Just as we were getting ready to leave the "D.Q." my uncle pulled up in his deuce and a half, that's slang for two and a half ton pick up truck for all of you city slickers. True to form, there was old Blue, Uncle Slim's hound dog with his head hanging out of the passenger side window with his tongue wagging in the wind.

Uncle Slim was wearing all black, from his black ten gallon cowboy hat, right down to his black pointed toe shit kickers, that's cowboy boots for the rest of you city slickers. Uncle Slim managed getting in and out of that huge pick up truck even though he had a severe limp. Uncle Slim's left knee was nearly blown apart in the Viet Nam War. He was helping injured soldiers get to shelter in the middle of a fire fight when a land mine went off a few feet away from him. He was very blessed. The only part of his body that was hit was his left knee. Even though his knee was almost gone, they say he managed to help eight more soldiers get to safety. He is a true war hero, but you'd never know it by talking to him, and even though he's only five foot four inches tall, he was a huge presence anywhere he went. The next celebration on the roster was for him, and the soldiers he wore black for; his buddies who died in Viet Nam.

After talking to Uncle Slim for a few minutes, I rushed off and left him to empty my tray which had a half eaten hamburger and part of a milk shake remaining on it. It was time to go help set up for that celebration. The dedication service was taking place at the local National Guard Armory and was due to start in an hour. The town was having four huge granite memorials set up for the local veterans of all wars. By the time opening ceremonies began, Uncle Slim was right there on the front row as usual. He didn't know anything about it, but he was finally getting that Purple Heart he so richly deserved. He was also getting a new motorcycle from the local V.F.W. Post. I guess they were tired of seeing him struggle to get in and out of his truck.

They began the ceremony with prayer of course, and then the mayor made a long drawn out speech like most politicians would do. After the speech, it was time for the unveiling ceremony. There were four huge granite memorials, one memorial for each branch of service with the Coast Guard and Navy being listed on the same one. As they unveiled the memorial garden center piece, a special guest sang “I’m Proud to Be an American.” With the end of the unveiling ceremony over, and not a dry eye in the audience, Uncle Slim suddenly heard his story being told. After the Sergeant in charge of the Armory finished Uncle Slim’s story and called him to the platform, Uncle Slim was so overcome with emotion that he burst into tears. Everyone wanted a speech, but all Uncle Slim could manage was a thank you. When he finally managed that, there was a long thunderous applause.

After everything was over, and dark was finally settling in, The Cego Inspirations, a local gospel quartet put on an hour long performance. Shortly after they began singing, my girl friend arrived. She had just gotten off of work. When I say girl friend, I mean she was a girl, and she was a friend. We had been on several dates, but we had never let anything progress past talking. That’s because Tina was black, and me, well; I’m the white son of a Pentecostal preacher who’s as racist as any white preacher from the south.

Tina was Gorgeous. She was tall for a girl, five foot seven, and had a cheer leader’s body with the face of a model. We listened to the last song of the night by the quartet, and then the fireworks began. After the first few minutes of the fireworks show, Tina and I looked at each other, and without saying a word, I reached out and waited. She took a couple of minutes to think about it, all the while my hand still outstretched and us looking at each other, and she finally slipped her hand into mine. We watched the rest of the fireworks show hand in hand without a single word. I guess we were doing more thinking than anything.

Good old America. Racism reigns supreme even as we celebrate our great country’s freedom. What could be so great about a country where you can’t love someone because their skin is black, and yours is white? Tina had been spit on by white girls who saw us together, and threatened by white boys who saw us together. My dad, “the preacher” even said he would kill me if he ever found out I was dating a black girl.

Something about the fireworks, the gospel music, and all of the festivities eased our tensions, and as the fireworks finale began, we kissed. Then the fireworks really began.

Word Count: 149

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