Independence is something we all strive to achieve; with the obvious exception of any offspring that continue to live at home throughout their thirties.  Parents need independence too, you know!  I was brought up to achieve that illusive “Financial Independence” status.  Instead, I at least have now achieved “Retirement Independence,” and hope it continues for many years to come.

As with all of us that have gained Independence, whether that be through inheritance, hard work, luck, age, or war, we have our day to celebrate this freedom. July 4th is when the U.S.A. celebrates, Mexico: September 18th, Canada: July 1st, France: July 14th, Texas: March 2nd, and myself: January 1st.  For me, it was on that day in 2017 that I retired, and was freed from the chains of employment.  I know, it should not be a day celebrated with the same value as these select world powers.   I include Texas, because I lived there for 5 years, and know that they don’t consider themselves as part of the United States, but still see themselves as a world power, at least in football!

On each of these significant occasions, there’s a bond of flag and country, with millions who share the benefits of Freedom and Independence.  With my designated day, I’m probably the only one who cares.  So when January 1, 2018 rolls around, I will be celebrating more than just New Year’s Day.  I’ll also be celebrating my Work Freedom.  I don’t think it will be necessary to create my own flag, or try to organize a ticker-tape parade.  There will be no Bowl Games in my honor, fly-overs, or half-time shows.   I will simply take a moment to recount the pleasure of my first year of retirement.  I should be on Post #366 or greater that day, and I will undoubtedly use my writing time to selfishly pat myself on the back.

After all, there were no parties in my honor the day I retired, or on any day for that matter.  There was a time that I dreamed of a corporate get-together honoring my years with the company, but the company has now been sold three times.  My wife probably doesn’t expect much either, having cleanly escaped all the takeovers, at least for now.  One more and it will make her retirement decision easy.  Mine was painless, especially since most all my co-workers are scattered about the country, together now only through Linked-In.

Since my recent trip to Normandy and Omaha Beach, I have a little more appreciation for those who have served our country.  (Posts #89 and #93).  We treasure a soldier-signed flag from Afghanistan, and a small bottle of sand from Omaha Beach. They  are reminders of those who have given their lives for our freedom, and those who have survived to tell us about it.  We don’t do a lot of decorating for the 4th of July, just a couple of small, cheap flags in our planters out-front, plus red, white, & blue scarves that our dogs begrudgingly wear.  We’ll decorate the table with festive flowers, star-spangled napkins, and star-shaped sugar cookies, and maybe have a picnic.   Last but not least, we’ll remember our fathers, grandfathers, and neighbors and be thankful that myself and my son were not put in a combat position.

When I think of freedom, I think of Paul Revere, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Eisenhower, Patton, Martin Luther King Jr., and John F. Kennedy.  I see a battered flag hanging over Fort McHenry, now on display at the Smithsonian, and monuments dedicated to the dead.  I hear the “Star Spangled Banner” in my head, and watch documentaries to better understand the strategies of battle.  I imagine my dad in a helmet with a red-cross, and my birth father in a Marine uniform.  I dream that others will someday have the freedoms that I enjoy, and that peace will rule the planet.

I fondly recall 4th of July family picnics at Simonton Lake and Oxbow Park, as I grew older, with my cousins.  These get-togethers usually involved croquet and badminton with my grandparents, while they were still active, and a boat ride on the lake with an American flag on the bow blowing in the breeze.  There was a lot of food, as everyone brought their favorite dishes, but I can’t recall anything but the hot dogs on the grill.  When it finally turned dark, we’d all wave our sparklers and toss them in the air, waiting for an accident to happen.

One of the great traditions of the 4th of July is the fireworks.  We enjoy these displays, but it is light so late this time of year, that it’s almost bed-time when the first sparklers are lit.  The noise bothers the dogs, and those who lived in terror as explosions rocked their world.  I value my hands and fingers too much to make a trip to the fireworks store, although that was a regular stop on our way back from Florida many years ago when Tennessee was one of the few states where legal fireworks were sold.   I can also think of a couple instances of close encounters and near disasters with explosive devices.  They aren’t a priority anymore, and I hope the neighborhood stays quiet.  As any old man like me might say, “get off my grass, and don’t you dare set it on fire with your nasty Black Cats.”