It is somewhat odd to me that, as I look back over this webspace, I’ve only had one prior post come out on this date, and that relatively recently. Given how calendars tend to work and that I’ve got more than ten years posting here, I’d’ve expected to have marked the occasion more than once before–but such hasn’t been the case. Some, I’m sure, will accuse me of anti-patriotism or anti-Americanism for it; it wouldn’t be the first time, and I’ve my doubts it will be the last. After all, how many people who have bedecked themselves in red, white, and blue, draped themselves in flags, and shouted their jingoism with full throat are themselves thusly accused?

This is not about that, though.

I believe I’ve noted before that holidays–not just this one, but the fact of the holiday today invites reflection on holidays generally–are…difficult for me. I’m not a celebratory person by nature or habit (which is the case is not entirely clear); I am…wary of revelry and the indulgence that often accompanies it, certainly for myself. And it’s not, or not just, and issue of wanting to maintain appearances; were I more concerned with how I look to others, I would make a point of being out more among the day’s festivities than I have yet been. I’ve put in appearances, now and again, but rarely; I’ve attended the big Fourth of July event in my hometown exactly once, for example, and I’ve never made it to any of the other major area events for the day. Instead, I’ve either worked the day, or I’ve kept more or less to home–although that’s not really different from most other days for me; they find me working or home, rarely “going anywhere” or “doing anything.” But that’s not a new observation for me, either.

Such ruminations, such reflections, are typical of my holiday experience. I fail to feel what those around me do, and instead find myself living largely in my head. (Again, that’s not really different from most other days for me.) I don’t much feel connected to the traditions being honored, which I will stress is an issue of me more than it is of them; I am not owed outreach in this regard, and I am not complaining that I do not receive it, but am simply observing that I do not and that I do not seem to have it in me to reach out, myself. While such things as the cookout happen with me–I do enjoy doing so, but that’s another thing that’s not different from most other days for me, and I keep in mind Robb Walsh’s comment in one or another of his cookbooks that there’s a perversity in heating your house while you’re trying to cool it off–I don’t necessarily understand why so many of the other surrounding traditions have grown up or continue, and they don’t speak to me at this point in my life. Fireworks are pretty, yes, but they’re also expensive, and neither pets nor people with many forms of PTSD do well with them. Parades are neat, yes, but I’ve marched in enough of them to know they’re also markedly uncomfortable. A day off is nice, for those who can get it, but a whole lot of those who can make things an awful lot worse for those who can’t–and I’ve been one of the ones who can’t pretty often in my life.

I suppose that’s moving toward an actual point, here. Celebrate what you celebrate, sure, but keep in mind as you do that what you do still affects others. That it’s a holiday doesn’t mean you should be a jerk.

But that’s yet another thing that’s not really different from any other day.

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