Festivals in the World
U.S.A.: The Fourth of July
Elisse Kimie Ota (2009-2010 AKP, Middlebury College)
There is always a festival going on in Japan. Whether it is country-wide, city-wide or at the local neighborhood shrine, it seems as if you can always find the telltale signs of a festival somewhere: costumes, dancing, music, food c If itfs one thing for sure, the Japanese really know how to party.
In comparison, festivals in America are few and far between, and I would hesitate to even say that there are festivals (the Japanese sense) in America; we call our celebrations holidays, not festivals. One of the biggest holidays - and perhaps the closest thing to a festival - in America is the Fourth of July, our Independence Day. On July 4, 1776, our founding fathers declared independence from Great Britain, thereby rendering this day forever after as a federal holiday commemorating the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. It is a country-wide holiday and is a time for remembrance of the birth of our nation, often accompanied with fireworks, barbecues, parades and concerts. It is a time for the country to come together, united under a banner of patriotism to celebrate the freedom that our forefathers won for us. Even before the great day, signs of patriotism crop up in the commercial aisles of stores, imprinted in red white and blue on paper cups and plates, and on the front lawns and front porches around the neighborhoods in the form of banners and American flags flying gaily in the wind. Along the sidewalks (though because of fire concerns this has become less prevalent in recent days) there are often firework
stands set up weeks before the actual date where people can get fireworks and stock up for the big day. I remember my brother as a little boy (and even now) looking forward to these fireworks every year, often going with my dad beforehand to pick out a packet of colorful poppers and sparklers and firecrackers with names like Purple Rain and Phantom and Glory Honor Power.
Every year, my family made it a ritual to go to my auntsf house in Huntington Beach, California. All the relatives would gather there in the afternoon, where we would feast on all food traditionally American: steak, mashed potatoes, hamburgers, hotdogs, potato fries, potato salad and red, white and blue ribbon jello. The men would gather around the barbecue grilling the burgers and steaks and the women chat inside while the kids played games or went to the beach. Though we never went, in the morning on the Fourth of July, there is always a parade in Huntington Beach and at night there is a fireworks show over the ocean. Sometimes, we would be able to see the fireworks from the second story of my auntsf house or if we stood outside on the street. Then, once nighttime fell, there came the moment that all the children - the boys especially - would have waited for in anticipation since the last Fourth of July had ended the year before: the moment when we got to set off our own fireworks. This perhaps is my most vivid memory of the Fourth of July (though I must confess that I personally am not a fan of fire, though I like watching it, and only set off a few sparklers myself): going to the parks where other families had gathered and setting off firecrackers one after the other. The crackle and pop of firecrackers would come from all directions, with the occasional high-pierced whistle of a Piccolo Pete screaming through the clouds of smoke and the stench of sulfur wafting throughout the night air. All night long, the sound of fireworks would screech through the air, and even into the early morning hours you could still hear a crackle here and pop there. When we went home around midnight, my mom would always have to drive real slow, because of all the fireworks that people set off in the middle of the street and in front of their houses - anywhere where there is not too much vegetation that would lend itself to a conflagration.
Itfs been a couple years since I last went to my auntsf house on Fourth of July (though Ifll be going back this year!) because of college and such, but the upside to that was that last year I got to celebrate Fourth of July in Boston - the place where the action was originally carried out. I also got to get a taste of how small New England towns show their patriotic colors (I got to Middlebury College in Vermont and I was there last summer). Ifll start with Vermont first.
Though the same holiday is being celebrated, there is a decidedly different feeling about the celebrations in Vermont than in California, they are slightly less beach-y and more c farm-y (Vermont is very much an agricultural state and if you live there your closest neighbors are most likely to be cows). Example: In the Vermont Fourth of July parades, you will often find tractors. You will also find races like outhouse races (donft worry, these arenft real outhouses, but ones that were made and decorated especially for this purpose). And things like outdoor concerts (which if you go to, beware: the mosquitoes are merciless) and bands and food like corn on the cob and strawberry pies c and of course there are fireworks and a lot of patriotism in a quaint sort of way, a way that is magnified to stratospheric proportions in Boston.
While the celebrations in Vermont are extensive and are nothing to laugh at, celebrating the Fourth of July in Boston is no joke. It is, after all, where all the action happened. On the day of the Fourth of July, the city is awash in patriotic activity. Around the city there are reenactments of battles in this place and that cemetery, flag raising ceremonies, whale watching boats, parades, tours of the Freedom Trail (a trail of all the historically significant sites), chowder (a thick, creamy soup that often has clams in it) tasting, and many other events that ultimately culminate in a concert and the Boston Pops Fireworks Spectacular, an extravaganza of fireworks exploding across the night sky for thirty minutes straight in the most amazing patterns and colors and volume. In fact it is so spectacular that I think everyone comes out of it slightly deaf and blind, due to the resounding noise of the fireworks and the brightness of the flares, and during it, I know for sure it renders people mute as well - speechless as they are at the spectacle before them c
The Boston celebrations are truly a masterpiece of grand proportions. But the most amazing thing about the Fourth of July in my opinion is not the fireworks, nor the food, nor the outhouse races nor the concerts. Ifd have to say it is the shared feeling of camaraderie that permeates the whole holiday: the camaraderie of being American, of being of the same city or the same town or the same family, and the ability to take time out of our busy schedules to come together and appreciate these bonds of friendship and family and nationhood: these stars and stripes of freedom.
