Independence Day is the supreme American holiday. The reasons, principles and ideals explaining the colonies' separation from England formed the foundation for everything else the United States would ever be or hope to become.
It is the day of self-evident truths, of all created equal, of unalienable rights, of the protection of divine providence, of sacred honor in mutually pledging lives and fortunes to freedom from tyranny.
It is also the annual commemoration of the uniquely American spirit; of enormous exceptionalism to what had been historic reality for millennia. George Washington could have mobilized the army to become an American monarch. Instead, he used his formidable power and influence to set an example of term-limited executive restraint and to carve civilian rule over the military into the cornerstone of American liberty and independence.
The brilliant and strong-willed delegates to the Constitutional Convention a decade later could have deadlocked themselves into regional factions--instead they persevered in establishing a profoundly sturdy federalist governmental system that would literally change the world.
It wasn't a perfect system in 1776, of course. But no other form of government was even close at that time in declaring such rights and freedoms. The world was a racist, sexist, barbaric place, and even the luminous founders could not fully escape the dark vexations of their day.
But by instilling a love of liberty and a strong sense of self-determination in the hearts of the people, they set the nation on a course of steady ascension. The inherent ills and vices of bureaucracies and politics are the same here as anywhere, but our self-government system's checks and balances have kept those evils from ever reaching irreparable critical mass.
The Spirit of '76 is not fanfare and fireworks every Fourth of July. It's the fellowship of freedom we the people embrace, embody and share through life's everyday grind.
Distractions to that deep-seated spirit are pervasive, to be sure. But we see what we look most for, and if you focus attention away from all the rogue partisan hype, its essence still stands out everywhere.
I got a healthy dose of inspiring exposure to the selfless spirit of Americanism--the "pure elixir" in Stephen Vincent Benet's immortal words--two weeks ago, when I traveled to Mississippi for a Father's Day bicycle ride on the Tanglefoot Trail. While out driving around after dinner on Friday night, my truck inexplicably died, and wouldn't restart. It sounded like it was out of gas, but the tank was half full.
Modern automotive electronics are wonderful, but it would be nice to have some override capabilities. The diagnostic systems on today's engines rely on a slew of sensors, and if a sensor is bad the automobile incorrectly thinks the actual corresponding mechanism isn't working. The "electronic throttle control" warning disabled the motor; a manual throttle option might have allowed a return to our hotel.
But being stranded on a dark street (alongside a graveyard, no less) in another state at 10:30 at night opened the opportunity door of civil hospitality, and several Mississippians walked through it, each ablaze with the spirit of Good Samaritan-ship toward an American neighbor.
Like the man who pulled up and kindly offered to jump-start us, but that wasn't the problem.
Like the two guys who ran the repair shop, and graciously said they'd work me in on an already booked Saturday morning if I could get my pickup over there.
Like the tow-truck driver who delayed his next call long enough to give me a ride back to my hotel after hauling my vehicle to the service center.
Like the woman on the downtown sidewalk who overheard us looking for a lunch spot, and volunteered a suggestion that we try the Tallahatchie Grill, a block off the main stretch.
Like the 15-year-old waitress there whose beaming disposition and firecracker wit lifted our wearied and worrisome spirits as we waited for a repair update.
Like the local cab driver (aptly named Rock) who combined routes with several stops for us without charging us multiple fare tabs--essentially serving as our private chauffeur for an hour or so.
Not all had the same skin color, and I purposely omitted that distinction because these were all content-of-character moments. It never occurred to me at the time to question (and certainly not to prejudge or stereotype) any of them based on potentialities from their ancestry in a Deep South former slave state that I couldn't possibly know.
What I knew was how they were treating me and my family. I know kindness, concern, and empathy when I see it. The loftiest pursuit of happiness is the value of sacrificial personal effort, the virtue of putting others first, even when it isn't convenient or profitable.
The half-dozen or so strangers who were quick to do that for us were also humble about it. Our sincere gratitude in each instance was shrugged off with an "aw shucks, happy to help" attitude.
That's the spirit. Same as '76. Thank God it still lives, and lives forever.
Celebrate it this weekend. Even better: Practice it every time you get the chance.
Dana D. Kelley is a freelance writer from Jonesboro.