July 4: Real Men Own a Grill

It's weird. In preparation for our nation's birthday, I decided to listen to some John Philip Sousa, as any good America-loving band geek would. I felt reminiscent, to say the least. But not because of any fond memories of 4th of July picnics of the past, or patriotic military parades, or out of any profound sense of nationalism. It moved me because it reminded me of walking down Main Street U.S.A. of Disneyland.

I'll be the first to admit this is a little messed up. My strong emotional sentiments, which ought to be reserved towards 236 years of courage and sacrifice of my fellow countrymen, is instead inextricably tied to a theme park in California.

I can't help it. I have many good memories tied to Disneyland. Yes, the rides are fun, and it's quite a spectacle, magical even, but that's not quite it. Disneyland was my family's family vacation of choice, and for me it meant a couple weeks where we could just be together, spending the sunlit hours frolicking in the Park, and retiring in the evening to gobble down meatloaf and potato soup at Millie's restaurant in front of the Fairfield Marriott. Yes, there was a lot of screaming and fighting, as National Lampoon has led us to believe vacations should entail. But now that I'm away from home and rarely see my family,I can't help but feel a little fuzzy inside remembering that first magical promenade down Main Street as marches from ages past ensured that visitors kept a even, brisk walking pace, beholding all that was right with America.

But should I feel bad that my love for my country is only a transitive association to my love of a corporation? No, I don't think so. I've always held that the US, like any government, is simple a collection of people, constantly shifting and changing, that come together to agree on a few basic things. It is not an entity in itself, worth the reverence of the European monarchy, nor the idolatry of Asian Imperial courts. It's a set of ideas, which I think Disneyland happens to embody pretty well. It's a clean, safe place built upon the idea that families, parents and children alike, ought to be able to play together. To me, America has always been about establishing an environment where I can live, love, and laugh with my friends and family.

What about the Capitalism? Yes, that's a undeniable part of Disney's motto, emblazoned, if not literally, on the receipt for your $3.00 churro. But I've rarely had a problem with capitalism, and think more often than not it is a force for good. A nice and well placed example are the fireworks we watched this July 4th. The city's pretty poor, and was planning on cancelling the annual display. But Ikea stepped in to finance a large portion of the firework show. Was it necessary? No. Could the money have been put back into the community to provide social welfare, etc.? I suppose. But what good is all this work if we can't enjoy it once in a while? To simply persist and survive this workaday world, to trudge home with your half-price, day old, discount bread to gnaw on the stale butt pieces of the loaf as you ponder how you'll get through tomorrow is un-American.

So for this 4th of July, we bought the fancy hamburger buns, watched Netflix, danced the night away, and celebrated our America.