Outside, the Shouts of Giants

Today I caught up with my aunt, formerly my housemate; today we walked down a Castro Street devoid of people but for about a half-dozen diners and an emergency situation of some sort I was glad to have missed (people I'd seen while we had frozen yogurt were there, staring at it aghast, like bit players in an Aronofsky film).

Today I ate kielbasa, roasted potatoes, and beer for dinner.

Today I saw fireworks from the little school by my house, while neighbors I had never seen clustered around me and chatted.

Today I am thankful for my country and my freedom. Not in a propaganda sort of way; not in a jingoistic way; not in the abstract way every other blog post today will talk about. I'm thankful to live in a country where our greatest fights are to improve amenities some other countries only dream of having; to live in a country where my voice can matter; to live in a country where the ogreish booming of fireworks can be a sound of celebration instead of fear; to live in a country where I have the time and the energy to write this.

So, thanks, Founding Fathers, and those who died to bring us this independence. Whatever you were fighting for, whatever you'd wanted, what we've got is pretty special. Let's continue the experiment.