tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8528965.post-1151876648243973852006-07-02T14:57:00.000-06:002006-07-02T15:59:20.896-06:00We all have moments in our lives that, for whatever reason, we vividly remember ever after.<br /><br />One of my most treasured times will always be July 4, 2002. How do I know the exact date? Because that was my best and most memorable Independence Day.<br /><br />Most of the others have long since faded into the recesses of my mind, a melange of summer barbecues spent with family and friends, of waving flags and shooting fireworks. Yes, a few July 4ths stand out vaguely: the year a Roman candle I was holding accidently caught fire and went off in my hand; the year a bottle rocket fired by my then-brother-in-law went haywire, landing in our box of fireworks and setting them all off at once, sending us all scrambling for safety.<br /><br />Still, I don't recall the years those things happened or much else about those Independence Days, either.<br /><br />But I'll always remember July 4, 2002.<br /><br />I was in England, then. My husband, John, wasn't my husband then, but we had traveled to England to be married on August 1st, and not being a resident, I had to be in the country for some number of days beforehand, in order that we could wed. My son, Shane, was with us, and both he and I were bemoaning the fact that we were going to miss celebrating Independence Day.<br /><br />Naturally, with my husband and his family and friends all being English, there was a great deal of good-natured bantering about this. They made remarks such as how they had "captured" two American "colonists," and Shane and I responded with things like "the British are coming!"<br /><br />July 4th finally arrived, and when darkness fell, Shane and I sat rather glumly in front of the TV. Everyone else had disappeared, knowing how low our spirits were, I mistakenly believed.<br /><br />But then, much to my surprise, John called for Shane and me to come out into the garden. I couldn't imagine why, but when we appeared, <em>The Star-Spangled Banner</em> began to play; an American flag was run up; and a gorgeous fireworks display commenced.<br /><br />John's family was in the garden, and many of the neighbors in the other houses all around had come out into their own gardens, too, to watch. We all stood there for the duration of the American national anthem---a fabulous version John had previously recorded on a CD for this event---and watched the fireworks.<br /><br />Normally, England shoots fireworks on November 5th, which is Guy Fawkes Day. But John had explained to the owner of a local fireworks shop (which was closed in the off season) why he desperately wanted a fireworks display, and the very nice owner had not only opened his shop, but also put together a special sequence of fireworks to go off in time with <em>The Star-Spangled Banner.</em><br /><br />As the final notes sounded and the finale of the fireworks burst in the night sky, all the Brits cheered and applauded. But of course, I was so touched that I just stood there and cried.<br /><br />I know there'll be other July 4ths in my life. But I doubt that any will ever prove as lovely and memorable as that one, spent in the very country from which we Americans celebrate our independence.<br /><br />Have a safe and happy July 4th weekend!Rebecca Brandewynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11394366447120524244noreply@blogger.com