4th of July Weekend – Nostalgia Edition

As the 4th of July weekend comes to a close, I can’t help but think back on the celebrations we had as kids. It was a full-day affair in our neighborhood - Wyoming firework runs to get the good stuff (courtesy of the older kids or occasionally a rogue parent), while the rest of us stayed behind waiting for the real excitement to begin. It was true 4th of July nostalgia!

I was lucky to grow up in a time when we actually knew our neighbors - the kind of neighborhood where everyone watched out for each other… sometimes a little too much. Sure, there were tiffs and gossip, but also lifelong friendships. I grew up across the street from my second family, who I still talk to and still consider family. That kind of closeness is rare, and it shaped my idea of what community should feel like.

I don’t remember much about the food - I’m sure there were hot dogs somewhere in the background - but I do remember homemade ice cream. And I remember being allowed out after dark to sit on someone’s lawn (whichever yard had the best view of the peak). Yes, the peak - because they used to hike a mountain to set off fireworks at the top. And we watched from below, in lawn chairs, eating ice cream and trying not to get eaten by the mosquitoes. Wild times.

Those were simpler days. Or at least they felt that way.

Fast forward to now, and the last few months (okay, years) have been hard to process. There’s a heaviness in the air - so much anger, so much fear, and a sense that we’re all on opposing teams when really, deep down, I think most of us want the same things: for our families to be safe, for our communities to feel whole, and for our country to live up to the actual ideals it was founded on - not the broken soundbite versions.

What’s heartbreaking is that a small number of people yelling the loudest are the ones shaping the mood. And by “small number,” I mean behavior - not race, gender, or any of the things that get twisted into talking points. I mean the folks who believe hurting others (physically, emotionally, or otherwise) is an acceptable way to prove a point. I don’t know about you, but I was raised with a pretty clear message: don’t be a jerk. Bonus lesson: if you didn’t get out of bed on time, the wooden spoon drawer might open. (Spoiler: I don’t think it was ever actually used - but wow, did it make a great threat.)

Still, I hold on to hope - because I truly believe we’re more alike than we are different. We want to be seen, heard, and safe. We want to laugh without checking the comment section first. We want to be able to talk about real things without being ridiculed. We don’t have to agree on everything - we won’t - but we can try to understand each other, at least a little.

Here’s my request: bring back the conversation. Not the shouting match. Not the “I’m right, you’re an idiot” approach. (And while we’re at it, maybe retire the laugh emoji as a passive-aggressive response to someone’s heartfelt post? Just a thought.)

This is my space - and it’s a space for real talk, real fun, and real connection. You don’t have to agree with everything I post, but you do have to be respectful. That goes for this blog and every post moving forward. If you can’t be kind, we’ll rewind - and delete. Continued disrespect? We block. That’s not cancel culture, that’s community care.

Yes, we’re Gen X. Yes, we grew up on sarcasm and satire. But we also grew up on mix tapes and “I’ll be there for you” vibes. We know how to keep it real - and how to keep it human.

Until next time, keep surviving, keep thriving, and most of all - keep having fun.(And maybe bring back the homemade ice cream while you’re at it.)

🇺🇸 PS - If the 4th of July has you feeling a little nostalgic and a little fractured, you’re not alone. That’s why we created this not-so-traditional 4th of July poem - a reminder that rebellion and hope aren’t mutually exclusive.

🎁 Want a free poster version to print or share? Click here to get yours instantly.