This is the first year in 4 years that I haven’t spent the 4th of July in Los Angeles. That thought appeared moments before I began this post. And I’m feeling a way about that.
The Fourth of July is about family. To me, a black man, the fourth isn’t indicative of “our” freedom, but as a celebration of black community and black culture.
For as long as I can remember, the fourth was a backyard, or front, full of aunties and crazy uncle George’s, brothers and sisters, mom and dad, GRANDMA PEARLIE’s BANANA PUDDING, Aunt Crystal’s or Aunt Jackies Potato Salad, and MY chocolate cake. Mm Mm Mm.
The fourth was burnt bar-b-que hotdogs, BBQ BONELESS chicken breast (for me), baked beans, and whatever desserts I could get my hands on.
I went to New Orleans this weekend, and the entire time all I could think about is my family. My neice’s birthday is this coming weekend, and I will see her then.
But I miss the fourth at my parents house. Volleyball nets, four wheelers, spades games, GRANDMA, and water hoses.
And this is the first fourth without my grandmother. And I’m away from family. But I did spent today with a ton of friends and new friends. And that’s all good with me.
Find the God in everything, friends! Happy Fourth of July.