Here in my small town we celebrate the Fourth much the same as other small towns. People of all ages either watch from the sidewalks or march in groups down the middle of the street. Above is the local high school Latin club being watched from the sidelines by two unimpressed young girls. Latin? What’s that?
I heard about the shooting in Highland Park moments before we walked down to see the parade. I’ve been to that town and it’s much the same as mine. Tree-lined, lights out by ten. Too far from the big city to worry about crime. But it seems no place is safe.
Unlike other years, the parade lasted barely an hour and the mood was definitely not as festive. We didn’t walk over to the park and listen to the bands. We didn’t buy a beer from our sister city’s brewery. We came home where my husband watched Wimbledon and grumbled about the brutality of the games.
I watched a sad movie I’d seen before and cried.