July 4th 2005

We’ve spent many happy and memorable July 4^th’s in the States, so that just being here stirs many memories of barbecues and pool parties with friends and loved ones.

As I usually do when I’m at a loose end on a weekend, I got in the car after breakfast (two eggs over-easy on toast and fruit juice – I’m sadly predictable in some ways!), and headed off in a random direction. The direction I chose took me through some of the poorest Hispanic areas just south of downtown Dallas. It was appropriate timing, I thought, just as the G8 is about to meet, and protesters are gathering to call for an “end to poverty in the developing world, especially Africa” (Reuters). I suppose that poverty in the developed world is ok, magnified though it is by higher expectations and the surrounding environment extolling consumerism as a virtue.

The Herding Dog Association

Serendipity brought me to Dallas’ Old City Park, where they were staging an “Old-Fashioned Fourth”. The ceremonies started with the swearing in of 50 new American citizens. Had I been one of the 50, I can guarantee that I would not have turned up in shorts, t-shirt and sneakers, as quite a few did. We’ve attended graduation ceremonies in the past where the graduates have worn a cloak and mortar-board over similar attire. I know it gets hot here, but the sense of occasion seems to have been lost! A very good (American) friend said to me recently (via email) that “the USA doesn't have much political action about which to be proud these days so I am reaching way back for the sense of pride that used to come rather easily,” in which there is a similar sentiment. Maybe it’s a “generation thing”.

Parade

Gunfight!

At least I enjoyed the rest of the festivities: the parade, the demonstration by the East Texas Herding Dog Association, the Frontier Brigade Band on the bandstand, and the “shootout” on Main Street. And you can’t have July 4^th without a hot dog and a cold beer! On the way out, the temporary illusion was somewhat shattered by the sight of a young lady in a full-length hooped skirt and straw hat sneaking a cigarette behind the log-cabin, whilst furiously lifting her skirt bottom up and down to ameliorate what must have been a most uncomfortable outfit, given the weather. I laughed, made some comment, and she fortunately saw the humour of the situation!

Up here on the 8^th floor of the hotel, I have a clear view, over the flat Texas landscape, of “Six Flags over Texas” – a theme park four or five miles away. I’m sure they’ll have a great firework display, and I don’t even have to leave the hotel!

Driving back to the hotel through similar, but all too frequent, impoverished areas, I wondered which is worse: to live in abject poverty … or to die in it.