I was 15 years old during in the summer of 1976. I'm Canadian, but my mother was American, and I spent a lot of time in Minnesota with my grandparents and extended family during the holidays -- especially the summertime -- every summer (until I was 17 and got a part-time summer job that cut into my traditional lazy summers, anyway). In 1974, we'd moved to a town that was closer to the border and to where my grandparents lived -- an easy drive for a weekend's visit -- so we were able to spend a lot more time there than we had in the past.
So I was in the U.S. a fair bit during the two years leading up to U.S. Bicentennial celebrations, as well as on/around July 4, 1976, itself. My memories from 50 (!!) years ago are not as sharp as they once were, but I do have some from that time.
You couldn't NOT notice what was going on! There was a huge buildup in the years, months and weeks ahead of July 1976 -- including two-plus years' worth of Bicentennial Minutes -- brief snippets of American Revolutionary history, broadcast nightly on the CBS TV network, narrated by CBS actors. You can watch some of them on YouTube! (of course!) Moving closer to the border meant we could pull in some U.S. TV stations with our rotary antenna (cable came to our town a few years later) -- CBS was a little out of our range (although we could sometimes pick up a fuzzy picture on an especially clear night, or after a thunderstorm), but there was plenty of other Bicentennial-related content on the ABC and NBC affiliates we could pick up. I think it's safe to say that Canadian kids of my generation grew up knowing more about American historical events/mythology and figures from watching American TV than we did about our own country's story.
Norman Rockwell, the artist whose work is synonymous with "Americana," was from New England, but I used to see his paintings and immediately think of my mom's small hometown in Minnesota (population about 1,400, back then). It was that kind of place and that kind of vibe. As part of its Bicentennial celebrations, the town organized a huge all-school reunion -- which meant that, even more than usual, my grandmother's little house was full of neighbours, old friends and relatives who had come "home" for the occasion, dropping by to visit. Grandma always had a pot of coffee percolating on the gas stove, home-baked goodies in the pantry, and a warm welcome for everyone who came through the door. The screened-in back porch, covered in Virginia creeper, was always full of people, sitting and chatting and laughing. It wasn't a big porch, but I'm always amazed when I think of how many people we were able to pack in there!
On the 4th of July itself, we all went downtown to watch a big parade and, later that evening, drove to another nearby town to watch fireworks. In between, we hand-cranked homemade ice cream on the screened-in back porch, in an old-fashioned ice-cream making tub (packed with ice and rock salt), which we ate with fresh local strawberries. I remember my uncle and cousins setting off their own fireworks in the field behind Grandma's house, and lighting sparklers in the back yard, although I'm not sure if those memories are from Bicentennial 4th or other Fourth of Julys, growing up.
There were lots of cousins and extended family in the area at that time -- the ones who lived there then, and others who were visiting -- and we drove to my great-aunt's house, about about an hour away, for a barbecue/mini-reunion with relatives from my grandmother's side of the family. Those present included our hostess (Grandma's sister-in-law, divorced from Grandma's brother, but still close to everyone in the family), her son (Mom's cousin, 22 years old at the time), who lived with her, and her daughter, who lived/lives in California, was there with her husband and two kids; my parents, grandparents & sister; my uncle, his wife and my two cousins; another great-aunt (Grandma's older sister), her daughter (another cousin of Mom's, who was also my godmother) and her two daughters. Years later, the California cousin's husband sent me some digitized photos from that day, including a group photo of all the kids, and another of me, my sister and the next two oldest girl cousins, sitting in one of the cars, windows open, listening to music on the radio (and running down the car battery, no doubt...!) and reading Tiger Beat magazine. :)
All the kids in those photos are now in their late 50s and early/mid-60s. (I am the oldest cousin of my generation on that side of the family. Interestingly, only three of the eight of us who were there that day have kids.) Of the adults in the photos, my grandparents, my two great-aunts, my mom, her brother (my uncle), their then-22-year-old cousin and the California cousin's husband who sent me the photos, are gone. Just two of my mom's cousins who were there, as well as my uncle's wife and my dad, are still with us today.
Maybe it's the loss and the absence of these wonderful people. Maybe it's the charged political atmosphere today (although 1976 wasn't too far removed from the turmoil of Watergate and Vietnam, etc.). Maybe it's because I haven't been to the States in several years, and haven't been able to absorb the atmosphere for myself. Maybe there just doesn't seem to be as much hoopla, that I've noticed from the other side of the border, anyway. Maybe I'm just feeling nostalgic, fuelled by so many reminders of the past while helping my sister clear out our parents' house recently. Maybe I'm just getting older, and looking back through rose-coloured glasses.
But I'm not feeling the same sense of anticipation and excitement about tomorrow's milestone holiday, from where I sit across the border, or from my family & friends there...
I miss them all.
