We have a really cool flag, don’t we? I wonder if all people think that about their flag, but I know I love our flag. When my family moved to Canada, it was a particularly tumultuous time. The war in Vietnam was raging. Sentiments towards the U.S. were not good. More than once, my first grade teacher literally put me in the corner, telling me she wanted the American to go stand in the corner. One time, we even thought we would have to go hide in the embassy. I didn’t really know why, but I remember my mother coming to get us from school and keeping us home for a few days. I remember her being frightened, telling us she had received communications to stand by and be ready to evacuate to the embassy. Despite those times, we were proud of our country, grateful for the country that was hosting us, sure, but always proud of our native land, so much so that we had this really cool American flag — you know one of the real ones that fly on poles — proudly pinned on the wall in the basement. Nationality was a strange thing for this little girl. I loved Canada. I loved its beauty, the amazing lake and river by our house, the mountains, my own personal skating rink, my friends at school. I loved what I still see in my grown-up mind — the wheat fields and oil wells that were my childhood home. It was all I actually knew, other than some isolated memories, all I knew, except for the identity on me of what that flag meant. I was “the American,” and that was my flag.

I was twelve when we returned to the U.S. We moved that flag with us, installed it on a pole on our house, and flew the flag until it collapsed, as very old and very used fabric is prone to do. I particularly remember our first 4th of July back in the U.S. Indeed, given the dates of the move-away and the later return, this was the first July 4th I was actually age-appropriate to remember.  My dad had spent days telling me, my brother and my sister how Americans celebrate with fireworks, then making a place outside to view fireworks that were going to be displayed in a nearby park. As the sun set, the noises began, noises I had never heard before. My family was outside, excitedly watching, but I was in my bed. Many times my dad tried to get me up to go look, unsuccessful, because my body’s temperature matched the 103 it was outside, and I mean that was the night temperature, cooled from the record 113 it had been during that day.  I remember thinking the weather was … not so good in the U.S., that all of this seemed so strange, so loud, and that perhaps I preferred just my family’s normal celebration with my flag in the basement … in the land of wheat fields and oil wells.

It took a while for me to truly appreciate the actual normal celebrations of July 4th because I wasn’t raised with them. Sure now I like them — actual celebrations with people and fireworks and flags everywhere, not just my own family celebrating with our own personal mostly-hidden flag. Still for me, my image of  July 4th is simple; it’s that really cool flag, a flag in a long ago basement in Canada, a flag that made me different from every other girl in my childhood home, a flag kept in hiding … in the land of wheat fields and oil wells that was my actual home. You see… I loved that place too, and a little, perhaps more than I’ll admit, will always be with me. So Happy Birthday, land with the coolest flag ever, from this woman who was once a girl raised in a land she also loved somewhere far away. What is that phrase? Oh I know… the best of both worlds!

Wishing each of you and yours a wonderful Fourth of July. I’m in a particularly good and fun mood as I am anticipating the arrival of family in a few days, so I thought I’d make today fun, with this… a fun version of the National Anthem, celebrating (or is it mocking) my own adopted home, Los Angeles, and celebrating … what is it… the love of music? Yes, that’s it, this version celebrates the love of music, or perhaps … everyone’s wish to be a star, a star just like on the flag! You know … that really cool flag, my flag!

https://soundcloud.com/uncle-joe-benson/laughter-at-45-after-craig-shoemaker-07-03-14