Tomorrow is the Fourth of July.
Meh.
I only say this because celebrations of America’s 1776 independence from England are nowadays practically nonexistent compared to the past. If I’m wrong, those of you from the continent can tell me how this holiday is alive and well in your neck of the woods.
In Seattle, there used to be big parades on Independence Day, but they were gone by the time we left, replaced by huge sales at major stores.
Half price on the Fourth! It makes me wonder if shop-til-you-drop Americans take for granted the 247 years of self-determination, known as The Grand Experiment.
In old days, celebrating this holiday meant that cities and towns were festooned in Americana and flooded with flag-waving citizens. Businesses and offices closed down so all could enjoy parades of floats with patriotic themes and bands blasting, “You’re a Grand Old Flag!”
My mother used to talk about red, white and blue bunting on storefronts to celebrate the Fourth when she was young. This was in the 1920s in Honokaa, one for the many towns on the Hilo and Hamakua coasts that sprung up around American-run sugar plantations.
I grew up not on a plantation but in Hilo, back when it was the second-largest city in Hawaii after Honolulu. This meant my friends and I were “city girls,” which makes me giggle.
While I recall no bunting in the “city,” I remember daylong celebrations. We’d find a shady spot on the Keawe Street parade route to cheer friends and family marching in bands, twirling batons, dancing hula. This was followed by the beach, fireworks and barbecues with patriotic eats, like white cakes decorated with blue stars and red stripes. Who bakes that anymore?
This brings me to the American flag, a dicey topic here in the islands.
One of my ex-neighbors, a Coast Guard veteran who has since returned to Oregon, unfurled his flag every Fourth, as well as on Memorial and Veterans Day. I respected his salute to Old Glory on those holidays, but appreciated even more that he took it down the day after.
Driving around the island, I sometimes see American flags flapping in the breeze on private property. “What’s the occasion?” I ask. “None,” is the answer. Turns out there are transplants who really like to fly their flag all the time. That’s fine in Maine or Michigan, but here, it feels not like patriotism but poke your eye-ism. I plant my flag on your rock and it is mine!
Ouch. Some islanders are still sore about the sorry history between Hawaii and the United States, so no need rub it in.
After contested annexation to the U.S. in 1898, there were efforts to turn islanders into dutiful citizens, but perhaps we were too far away in the middle of the ocean. Social media back then meant writing something in long-hand, standing in line at the post office to buy a stamp, and hoping your card or letter arrived at its destination in a week or two.
Today with instant messaging, maybe the next generation will have more enthusiasm for America’s birthday.
Running the Stars and Stripes up the flagpole before heading to the mall is easy to do, but beyond that, what is American patriotism? After watching shenanigans in the lower 48 these past few years, I have no idea.
This could explain why the Fourth of July has become a “meh” holiday. Too bad. The Grand Experiment is a great concept but still needs fine-tuning.
And who knows. Might be pau soon.
Rochelle delaCruz was born in Hilo, graduated from Hilo High School, then left to go to college. After teaching for 30 years in Seattle, Wash., she retired and returned home to Hawaii. She welcomes your comments at rainysideview@gmail.com. Her column is published the first Monday of each month.
