quattro luglio

Fourth of July outside of the United States tends to leave you feeling a little less... something.

I don't know where to point the finger. The lack of colorful explosions punching across evening's inky blackness? The void left in late morning when there's no parade to cheer? And what about all of that red, white and blue? There's something delightfully Mayberry about everyone on the block waking up early to hang the flag out front in the breeze... These delicious chunks of Americana are only found in America.

Instead, we're back where parts of America began. Where many of our ancestors started and what they left behind when they came.

And in some special places... where they've returned.

The man who hosted our Fourth of July in the Dolomites went to the United States over fifty years ago at age fourteen. He went to school no more than a block from where my mother lived - and at the same time. He worked for a knife sharpener nights, weekends, and many years until he opened his own shop. And then, after becoming an American citizen and a successful business man, he returned to Italy where he continues to be both.

He also holds a Fourth of July party every year in a wonderful mountain town. There are many Americans there. And Australians. And the English. There is great food. Much toasting with homemade grappa. And many stories about America.

It's a special celebration in a special place. And it's strange. Because for every Fourth of July in America, for every parade I shook a small flag at, and for every fireworks display I stood below... I'd never felt quite as American as I felt on this Fourth of July.

That party in the mountains felt patriotic in a way that a parade never could. Because instead of walking down Main Street with a flag and the steady tip-tap of the high school band's snare drum, these people boarded slow-moving ships to cross the Atlantic and waited for the waves to push them towards their future.

When these people say "Happy Fourth of July," they mean it. And that sounds good when you're a long way from home.

Even without the parade.