“Just about a week now, boys, and Happy Birthday America!”

“Got that right, Herb. You finished with that hot sauce?”

“Here you go,” said Steve.

There’ll be the annual parade, of course, and each bonafide member of the world dilemma think tank, masquerading in public as the supreme court of dang near everything, would be down there on the street to judge.

Oh, not officially. No one takes notes. This Fourth of July parade isn’t big enough to pass out trophies or anything. If they did, it’d say on the trophies something like “best brushed horse in the parade” or “the band that showed up.”

But it is a solemn occasion for us. This is our chance to look at the kids walking with their dogs and speculating on what might have happened to last year’s dog. Or maybe what combination of back fence romance created this breed.

But there’s the flag.  We’d come just to see the flag. That flag means different things to different people, thought Doc, but to me it means we’ve been given a country so big and so blessed that we can live here happily and care for each other without having to agree on whose campaign sign we stick in the front yard.

Do we, as a nation, have problems? Sure. Always have. Undoubtedly always will. But we also know there are fixes to these problems as well, and now if everyone would just agree with me on those, what a smart country we’d have!

Happy Birthday America! We love you.