©2002-2013 Steve Anthony
All rights reserved
With a Bang!
by Steve Anthony
Uri
raised his hand in the middle of our discussion on adverbs. “How do you cel-ee– brrrate dees
‘In-dee-pend-ants Day’?” he asked. “In
my life, I have nev-rrr at-ten-ded such
a ting like dees. I would like to make
shorrre I do eet rrright.”
I
smiled at his broken English. It was
beautiful. Uri, like the rest of the
immigrants in my class, had learned a lot about our language in the months
since I had started teaching them to speak it.
Now we spent most of our days drilling in conjugation, spelling, and
pronunciation of the large vocabulary they had already learned. They had heard of the Fourth of July –
Independence Day – in the United States, but none had experienced it since
arriving here to become citizens. In just
a few days they would know firsthand what traditions comprise our yearly
celebration of freedom. I could tell
from Uri’s question that they were more interested in hearing about it than in learning
more adjectives and adverbs. I closed my
book and placed it on the dull gray surface of the metal table next to me.
“Well, Uri,” I started, “the class is doing
very well in its lessons, so I think I can take some time to tell you how we
celebrate Independence Day.”
There was
agreement in the classroom and everyone nodded their heads. Many started clapping their hands and wide
grins of glee broke out on their faces.
“Yes, tee-cherrr,
please tell us about it,” they cried in unison.
So far they knew nothing
of the large family gatherings and picnics, in the backyards and parks of
America, on the fourth of July. The
extravagant displays of rockets, sparklers, and firecrackers were as far from
their minds as the other traditions our families have passed down, to be kept
by each of us in remembrance of the freedom we enjoy in the United States.
I began to tell
them what to expect on their first Independence Day in this country. I started
with the fireworks stands that sprout here and there along the highways weeks
before the big event, like huge white mushrooms waiting for their caps to
spring open to reveal rows of brightly colored items designed to entice the
child in each of us. Each stand’s big
red letters and colorful streamers shining in the sun or flapping in the
breeze, offer us a bigger bang and a brighter flash with each item purchased if
we’ll only stop to look.
Next I told them
of the parades with their bright uniforms, marching bands, and twirling batons
rising high in the air and falling back again, only to be caught by their
owners before hitting the ground. I
spoke about the sound of blaring trumpets, and drums beating in rhythm to the
traditional music of Stars and
Stripes Forever, America the Beautiful, and The Star Spangled
Banner, and how the music rouses the crowd to heartfelt patriotism. As throngs of people line the streets and
avenues of cities and towns to watch, listen, and cheer them on, they build to
a crescendo of sights and sounds to remember.
My appetite kicked
into high gear when I told them of the picnics, and families getting together
on a sultry July afternoon in the park.
I could almost see the paper plates being passed around, filled with
generous dollops of velvety smooth potato salad, chicken fried to a golden
brown, and piles of sweet and creamy cole slaw enticing the masses. I mentioned
the aroma of charcoal mixed with the smell of hot dogs and hamburgers sizzling
over it, wafting through the air and making people hungry all over again no
matter how much anyone had already eaten.
I spoke of children
laughing and giggling and running everywhere with seemingly limitless energy,
while adults chatted with each other and gorged themselves on the traditional
cuisine of the day. Here and there the
crack of bat echoed through the air from a nearby baseball game, while the
sound of a horseshoe striking a metal post driven into the brown dirt chimes in
the distance. Now and then, a prankster tosses a lit firecracker dangerously
close to someone’s feet just to see them jump, holler, and run away as it
explodes in a white puff of smoke, scattering remnants of paper and smoke in a
shower of red confetti.
Finally I told them
of the elaborate fireworks programs when darkness falls, and the whistling
sounds of huge loads of gun powder and phosphorous being launched into the dark
sky, to erupt in loud booms and paint a brilliant display of luminescent brilliance
across it. At the finale of the display there would be a series of rapid fire
explosions of sound and light, culminating in the revelation of an American
flag in all its red, white, and blue glory above the heads of the crowd.
When I was
finished, you could see the awe on their faces slowly replaced by the pride of
having chosen to become citizens of this great nation of ours. Although I knew
my words couldn’t replace the actual experience of an Independence Day
celebration, I tried to make them anticipate it when it came.
“What I have told
you is only a small sample of what it is like to experience a real Fourth of
July celebration,” I said. It will be
much better when you go for yourselves, and you will build your own traditions
over the years, for you and your families.”
There was a pause
as they contemplated what I had told them, and briefly discussed it among
themselves.
Finally, Uri spoke. “It is okay, tee-cherrr. It is good. You cel-ee-brate
‘In-dee-pend-ants-Day’ like such an im-porrr-tant event should be cel-ee-brated.
W-w-wid a bang!”
