Tomorrow is Independence Day. Last year at this time, I’d just met the formidable Jenna, I remember, and she had me over for a cookout.
It’s hard to know what to do on this holiday anymore. Levi has always hated fireworks, so there aren’t any official celebrations going on this year. He hopes to draw out the excuse of the apocalypse as long as possible before his administration is pressured into spending a lot of money again on something he just doesn’t get.
“I’d hand out a hundred thousand Frisbees to every man, woman and child before I’d spend a dime on noise and smoke.” This is what he says to us in private. On camera, he discusses fiscal responsibility and respecting those who died. He makes pious statements like, “It’s too soon after tragedy for riotous celebration.”
Darling boy, you may not know much about the United States and our revolution and Fourth of July. But I hope they aren’t brainwashing you over there; I hope you know something about independence. It may be time for me to come find you and bring you home.
Dalai Lama or no Dalai Lama, a boy needs his mother.
Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.