The 4th of July

     At dinner last night, I asked my family what the Fourth of July meant to them.  Unfortunately but not surprisingly, like much of our demographic, my daughters reported that it didn't mean terribly much to them.  My twelve-year-old commented that it was difficult to celebrate the country right now, which is perfectly understandable considering how harshly her belief system is being assailed (by both ends of the political spectrum -- her belief system puts a premium on cooperation).  It does raise the question, what do we honor when we celebrate "the country"?  Is it the country's history?  It's philosophy?  It's reigning political party or president?  It's future?  Even within any of these categories, we must then determine what any of those things actually means to us.
     My fourteen-year-old said that, apart from the country's birthday, the Fourth of July was the day she must powerfully remembered her grandfather.  It would have made her grandfather very happy to know that he was associated with that day.  A World War II veteran and life-long democrat, he never lost faith in his country though he lived through some particularly faith-threatening times (Richard Nixon comes most directly to mind).  One of the few times I ever saw him shed tears was the day the United States elected its first president of color.  He once noted that he was proud of his children (one a social worker, one a teacher and one an art dealer like he was) because they were "good for the country."
     Maybe my older daughter's idea was the right one, that we can honor the country by honoring people who exemplify characteristics of great Americans.  My father's patriotic idealism was quiet but undaunted, and in retrospect that unflagging ability to believe in the best possibilities is perhaps the things I most admire about him.  It is without a doubt one of the many things I wish I could ask him for some advice on today. 

No Fair

     Wanting the 4th of July to mean something other than fireworks and ice cream to my daughters, one eleven and the other nine, we got down to the nitty-gritty of democracy like this:
     Two hundred and thirty-nine years ago, there was this little kid.  Like all kids, this kid was made up mostly of its parents' thoughts and feelings and stuff.  But this little kid actually managed to say to its parent "everything you and all the other grown ups thought about how things work for the last two to three thousand years, everything you believed and knew and worked from, was actually wrong.  I know I'm a little kid and you never listen to me, but there you go."
     Looking back on all this civilization throughout history, what's wrong with it?  The answer is the rallying cry of my girls, of all children everywhere whenever confronted with injustice, a phrase so familiar that in many ways it lost its larger meaning:
     It's not fair.
     It doesn't just apply to which sister gets to stay up later.   It's the motivator for all of democracy, too.  We were just trying to make things fair.
     My daughters thought that wasn't quite as boring as all the other stuff we'd said to them.
    

Consideration for Others

     Superman once noted that in a society this big, "consideration for others is the only thing that keeps life bearable."
     Pretty straightforward, but also surprisingly easy to forget; one of the small things a person can do to help make the country, and the world, great.
     Have a happy 4th of July.

Ode to a Friend

     Superman: the Movie is the template and high-water mark for the modern superhero movie, for its (mostly) serious treatment of story, its epic scale, its concentration on character and, primarily, for the performance of its star Christopher Reeve.  Reeve said that he based his interpretation of Superman on a particular line of dialog which has him answer Lois Lane's "Who are you?" with the simple reply, "A Friend."  Reeve's Superman was warm and kind and filled with heart, as if he were all of humanity's best friend, and his interpretation reshaped this American archetype forever.
     The subtlety and power of Reeve's performance is never on better display than in a scene where, after feeling an extraordinary connection with Lois during their fly-over of Metropolis, Clark Kent arrives at her apartment and decides he will tell her the truth of his identity.  He removes his glasses, his posture straightens, his chest expands, his chin sets, his voice drops several octaves and right before your eyes, a sniveling boob becomes a demigod.  More than any other moment in any Superman (or superhero) movie, this encapsulates the power of the man and his secret burden and turns the demigod into an accessible human being.
     Since Superman, the prime candidate for this legacy of humanity in superheroism is Chris Evans, who played the title role in the surprisingly great Captain America.  After all, power balanced with humanity is the American ideal upon which the superhero was founded.
     On that fitting note, have a happy 4th of July.