After a weekend going stir-crazy in the apartment, unpacking box after box, and finally volunteering to hang up our pictures, portraits, and other wall-suitables, we chose to take a break today and get out of the apartment. Early in the afternoon, we headed to Gasworks Park with blankets, food, and books. I wore plenty of sunscreen (three paranoid applications in a two-hour time span), ate roasted corn, and I made admirable progress through Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
As sunset approached, the park became more and more crowded. We brought our belongings closer to us, making room for stragglers eager to see the fireworks. I'm a pretty huge fan of fireworks. Granted, I'm not the one who'll clap and scream and cheer all through the show - I prefer to sit back and watch. But, I still get my thrills. I'm not a huge holiday person, though. I've yet to figure this one out entirely. Sure, I'll participate in limited functions, but I've been bemoaned as the "party pooper" when it comes to both holidays and my own birthday, shrugging and pronouncing, "It's just a day, like any other." But, if it involves a paid holiday, and fireworks, I'll attend...
...and promptly be shown up by the two most patriotic, and entirely brainless, high school cheerleaders on God's Green Earth.
As I mentioned earlier, we began to make room for other fireworks-viewers between 9:00PM and 10:00PM as the sun was setting behind Queen Anne Hill. These two girls sat down behind us just before the show began. Immediately, we knew we were in for an interesting time. Zach, who had been lying down on the blanket, using his bag as a pillow, was unceremoniously kicked in the head. I was stirred by giggles. I didn't get a good look at them. But, a few general impressions:
1. haltertops
2. flip-flops
3. make-up definitely banned from Bob Jones University
4. straight blonde hair, straight brown hair
5. vacant expression in the eyes
6. approximately eighteen years old
I suppose #5 should have set off alarms. But, at the time, I was more eager for fireworks. Soon, however, once Zach recovered from being kicked in the head, we began to pay attention to what they were saying:
Girl: "Ohhhhhhh! [impatient sqeal] I just love the Fourth of July!"
Other Girl: "Me too! And fireworks!"
Girl: "Me too! They're my most fav-or-it-est!"
Other Girl: "Totally!" [snaps gum]
The show was upon us. We were asked to rise for the national anthem. Zach suddenly became concerned that folks would trod over his bike, and spent most of The Star-Spangled Banner moving it to a better position. I, however, attempted to sing, but was soon drowned out by one girl spending 75% of the national anthem chanting "Yeah! Go America! Wooo! F*ck Osama! F*ck Sadam! We'll kill ya!" The Other Girl was singing, but getting some key phrases wrong...
"When so proudly it hailed... uh... twilight's last gleaming..."
"...Gave roof, through the night, that our flag was still there..."
The Other Girl eventually joined her friend in chants of "F*ck Osama! Go America!"
Girl: "I love America."
Other Girl: "Oh, me too!"
Girl: "Yeah, it's so great..." snaps gum
Other Girl: "Totally."
Girl: "We're so gonna win..."
Zach heard this part, and we'd sat back down by this point. I had to repress some urges of rage, and this nagging desire to turn around and lecture these tactless, daft witches on the dangers of
1. blind rhetoric
2. blind patriotism
3. ignorance
4. cursing in front of small children
Later conversations with Zach showed he briefly had to repress the same urge. "Jim, it took every fiber of my being... EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING... to keep me from turning around and... Oh, I have no idea what I would have said to them... but it wouldn't have been pretty... it wouldn't have been pretty."
Promptly following the national anthem, a CH-47 Chinook military helicopter carrying a company from nearby Fort Lewis flew in, towing an American flag, and took a pass around Lake Union. As it saddled up next to Gasworks Park...
Girl: "Yeah, wo-hoo!"
Other Girl: "Go America!"
Girl: "I - like - loooove America."
Other Girl: "Oh, me too!"
Girl: "I love the Fourth of July."
Other Girl: "Oh, me too!"
Girl: "This country is - like - the greatest ever."
Other Girl: "Here it [the helicopter] comes again... woo!"
Girl: "Yeah, I support the military in - like - everything. I support the war."
Other Girl: "Oh yeah. Totally. You - like - have to. How could you not?"
Girl: "Oh, totally. It's - like - important."
Other Girl: "Yeah. Oh, speaking of important, do you know what happened to me the last Fourth of July?"
Girl: "No..."
Other Girl: "Jeremy, that guy from the really hard art class I took, called me."
Girl: "No way!"
Other Girl: "Way! We talked for - like - forever!"
At this point, rage turned to amusement. Sure, these girls were thumbing their noses at any point of rational thought or analysis, and entirely flew in the face of my personal theory that it is possible to separate love of country and love of policies of said country... but, it was just so funny. Perhaps because, while I'd always thought it was possible for people like this to exist, I never dreamed that they did exist. The reality was, while sad, so laughable... Zach, apparently, had come to the same conclusion. As we applauded the Chinook, we also broke out into giggles and guffaws over the unexpected entertainment.
Other Girl: "I love America. F*ck Osama."
Girl: "I love fireworks. When are we going to get to them?... I love the Fourth of July."
Other Girl: "Yeah, I love - like - all fireworks."
Girl: "I love Seattle."
Other Girl: "Me too... Would you ever - like - live... anywhere else?
Girl: "F*ck no!"
Other Girl: "Me neither."
pause
Girl: "Of course, I've never been anywhere else..."
Other Girl: "Oh - like - me neither."
Girl: "So, I guess I'm keeping my options open."
Other Girl: "Me too."
Girl: "I - like - love the Fourth of July."
At this point, if you're trying to find voices for these girls in your head as you read their lines, I'd like to recommend the Delta Delta Delta skit from Saturday Night Live.
Finally, the fireworks began.
Other Girl: "Oh, they're - like - playing music to go along... I LOVE Ray Charles!"
Girl: "Me too! Oh, that one [firework] was my favorite! That one, too!"
Other Girl: "Me too! That's my favorite!"
I counted thirteen different fireworks identified by the girls as either "my favorite" or "my most favoritest." Zach and I alternated between watching the fireworks, and blatantly laughing at the girls behind us, who were utterly oblivious to anyone other than themselves. I nearly choked with laughter when one of them screamed, "I love that one! That one!... Oh, I love sparkly things!"
as Richard Wagner's "Ride" from die Walküre plays during a fireworks segment
Girl: "Hey, isn't this - like - Jeanette's song?..."
together: "It is! It is! It is Jeanette's song!"
Other Girl: "This is my favoritest song."
Girl: "Who does it?"
Other Girl: "Uh..."
during the finale, in which God Bless America is sung
Girl: "Yeah, God bless us!"
Other Girl: "America rocks!"
Girl: "We do - like - everything right! Go America!"
Other Girl: "I love America! Woooooooooo!"
Girl, singing along: "'...to the praries! And the oceans, like the phoooooone!... Gooooood bless America (and me!)'..."
We're pretty sure they didn't share a functioning neuron between them beyond the cerebellum and brain stem. I wanted - like, really wanted - to turn around and give them my speech on loving America. Of course you love America. So do I! Everyone does!
Reader: "Everyone does? Are you sure?"
Yes. Everyone loves America. And, just so we're clear on this: what is America? It's a word... a word describing an idea, a history, and a political and cultural reality so complex and all-encompassing that, when "America" is broken down into its infinite constituent parts, it becomes obvious why I can't disagree with the phrase, "I love America." When you put so many things on the list of what encompasses America, you're bound to come across a few things that would please even the most hard-hearted terrorist. When "America" includes such diverse items as
1. the many fun ways of pronouncing "New Orleans"
2. apple pie
3. films showing close-ups of Ewan McGregor
4. the Trail of Tears
5. brisket
6. the Ku Klux Klan
7. the Mi Lai massacre
8. feather pillows
9. the orchestral works of Aaron Copland
10. Abraham Lincoln
11. Portland, Oregon
12. Fresca
13. Roe vs. Wade
14. an IKEA store near you
15. doughnuts
16. the internment of Japanese-American citizens during World War II
17. New York style pizza
18. slavery
19. the Central Intelligence Agency
20. Spokane Mayor Jim West
21. Adam and Tony
22. crisp apples
23. mud pies
24. pornography
25. gay marriage in Massachusetts
These are just a few items associated with "America." Give me infinite time, and I'll come up with an infinite list of "America" things - right down to my boxer briefs. Now, before anyone looks at this list and accuses me of being pro-KKK, pro-massacres, or pro-slavery, know this: there are some things in that list that I hate with every fiber of my being, and there are some things I love. Since I love gay marriage in Massachusetts, and gay marriage in Massachusetts is, for better or for worse, part of "America," then of course I love America. For the record, nothing beats my mother's apple pie with crumb crust, served with cheese. But, with a simple list of "America," such as the above, the infinite diversity of the word, and idea, of "America" makes it both impossible for me to disagree with the phrase "I love America," and for the phrase "I love America" to amount to anything more than a hill of beans. It becomes an empty shell-of-a-phrase, holding less relevance than the rarely-uttered, "I love oxygen." Of course I do. So do you. The cellular processes on which I thrive would not be possible without it. Of course you love "America." So do I. I'm willing to bet, though, that we don't love the same things about it.
You, after all, have yet to try my mother's pie.
As for those girls, I weep for them, their parents, and for all of us. For America. On the way out of the park, when I said this to Zach, he tried to reassure me: "Eh, don't worry. They'll never be the ones with the power in this country."
I don't know, Zach. Stranger things have happened.
So, I'm hoping for some divine intervention, should it become necessary. After all, who says Deus ex Machina is an outdated literary device?
Posted by James at July 4, 2005 11:58 PM