A letter to the VFW

by Sean T Lewis  

The latest electronic newsletter from the VFW asked me, "What did you do to celebrate the Fourth of July?". Specifically, they were asking for submissions for a US flag photo contest, but the question in the title required an answer.

How I celebrated Independence Day 2008

Throwing on the previous night’s clothes even before starting up my coffee, I unfurled my United States flag, and posted it on the front beam of my house. I winced at the sound of a low-flying fighter jet. "Probably on its way to Ft. Vancouver," I thought to myself.

Midday, I ferried my teenage daughters to and fro for social and family engagements around the Portland metropolitan area, and had a good, long phone conversation with my girlfriend overseas. As I noticed time sliding into late afternoon, tension in my neck and jaw took my awareness. By 6:00, I was watching the clock and the sun constantly, knowing that I needed to be indoors in a dark and loud nightclub by dusk.

I cooked dinner for my girls, then made sure that they were each OK for the evening. The elder would be going to a Fourth of July party with friends, while the younger had decided to stay at home and pay extra attention to our family dog, Daisy, while the neighborhood went ablaze in celebration.

     Soon after 8:00, I was on the road to pick up a friend before going to the club. It should be a total drive time of less than an hour, I thought; we would be fine. If we got to the club before doors opened, there is a bar next door with a really good jukebox. One delay after another, and it was getting close to 9:00 by the time I picked up my passenger. As I drove, each pop, whiz, and bang from the side streets clenched my teeth tighter. Soon, my city would start sounding like a war zone, and I needed to get across the river, then out another 48 blocks to our destination.

The first bridge I went toward was closed for a music festival and the city fireworks display. I detoured to the next bridge downstream, made it across the Willamette River to the East side, and sailed up the road, keeping an eye on the time, and the gradually darkening sky.

We made it to our destination at 9:13, just as the city was getting dusky, but before it got dark. Al the doorman, also a Gulf War veteran, waived the cover charge. My friend and I got a pair of drinks, and sat at a vacant table. Actually, all the tables at that time were vacant. For more than an hour, we were the only patrons at the bar. We sat, listened to the "oonce-oonce" spinning from the DJ booth, had some light snacks, and talked about just about anything other than what was going on outside. Before long, I was laughing, and having a good time. Then more people showed up after concluding their holiday festivities, and by 11:30, it was fairly full of people dancing and socializing, having a good time with friends.

Before going home in the wee hours, I made a stop at Peace Memorial Park on the Willamette River. Earlier that evening, it had been packed with celebrants gathering to watch Portland’s big fireworks display. By my arrival, it was quiet, peaceful, and all of the trash left by its earlier visitors had been picked up and set at the curb in large white bags. I sat. After a few silent minutes in my head, I was ready to get back in my car and drive the rest of the way to my house. I looked across the river to the Portland skyline. My city. My home. My piece of America.

I’ve been thinking about doing something more productive for Independence Day next year, rather than just avoiding it. Maybe organize a veterans’ retreat in the national forest, where there are no fireworks? Or maybe I’ll go on a personal retreat to Breitenbush, perhaps with a friend/meditation partner?

About the Author: Sean T Lewis is an Army veteran of the Persian Gulf War, a member of Veterans of Foreign Wars, webmaster of soldiersheart.org (currently down for relocation), and an officer with Veterans for Peace chapter 72 in Portland, Oregon.