So, my pop is a Yankee Doodle Dandee. He’s been visiting of late, and in honor of his happy to you day (and, oh yeah, the American Independence holiday), The Swede and I hosted a cookout. How many blokes DOES it take to mitigate the unintended hickory chip fire on the chargoal grill?
A small crowd, albeit most enthusiastic enough to stay for the fireworks in the distance at the municipal park. Despite the rainout for the finale, which my father watched as a lightning magnet under his golf umbrella.
In the midst of heading abed, the phone rang. Carolina Mom sounded sleepy, scared, and disoriented. Righteously so. Two trees had fallen on her home, and she was awakened by the cacophonous noise and the sights and smells of the electric box on her house dancing an Irish jig. Good news: no loss of life, hers or the sweet girls Duchess and Druscilla (of the feline variation). Bad: much house action. Heading there to lend labor, TLC, etc.
The occasion for this post draws me to the date, and a folk band. The Fifth of July, and Eddie from Ohio. They are on the evergreen list of things that don’t suck, with wondrous harmonies, fantastic live performances, and clever lyrics. Known entities since my teenage years. To wit, I share the following "Fifth of July" song lyrics:
One if by land,
Two if by sea,
Three if by phone or facsimile.
Four if by plane,
Five if by boat,
Six if bilingual,
Seven by goat.
Eight by ten glossies of me ….
Happy to you day, wherever you are, be you Yankee Doodle Dandee or otherwise.