2006-07-04

Hey baby - it's the 4th of July...

Happy 4th, and all that.

I generally don't do much on Independence Day. For many years, the thing to do was go to Jess's house and get terribly, horribly, blisteringly obliterated and engage in all kinds of frivolous moronery (and, to be certain, this was assloads of fun). But then times changed, and Jess moved to California, as did several others, and those that didn't move to California settled down and had kids, and then there's that matter of my figuring out that I could no longer get terribly, horribly, blisteringly obliterated without massive repercussions. And so the 4th became Not A Big Deal.

But this year I kind of wanted to do something nice, and a little more traditional than sitting on my fat ass and watching the Pops concert on television. So off we went this morning to my hometown's parade.

I hadn't set foot in Hingham since this past winter, when I went to get the last of the stuff out of my parents' house and engaged in that bout of sentimental insanity with my bedroom carpet. And I hadn't done the whole Hingham parade thing since 2002, when I was maybe barely a month sober, and as such barely able to hear the fireworks and bands and whistles for the roaring fear and anxiety in my head.

But I was in a good place in my head today, and my parents were coming down from their summer digs in New Hampshire, and I had a pair of shoes that I wanted to give to my sister, and I just figured it would be a nice time, and it was.

I have a love/hate relationship with the town where I spent my formative years, a town where colored Christmas lights are considered a blight and a scourge, but where I also had teachers that made me read Flannery O'Connor and Samuel Beckett. I make fun of the place, you couldn't PAY me to go back, but time and time again I come to the conclusion that a huge part of who I am stems in no small part from having lived there.

I was almost giddy as we rode up Lincoln Street, heading into the center of town. Billy Idol was playing on the radio, and it just all suddenly seemed so fitting that I cranked it up and yelled, "YEAH, Hingham! FUCK you and your little white Christmas lights! REBEL YELL! MO' MO' MO'!"

The houseboy looked at me like he wasn't sure if he needed to pull over and give me "the talk" or not.

I had a good time. I really did. The parade was like every single other parade I'd been to or marched in since the late 70's, and like every other parade, everyone in Hingham said this was the "best one EVAH." Wee baseball players whipping candy into the crowd, fife and drum corps, Rotarians in little stupid cars, summer theater troupers teetering on the backs of flatbed trucks. Just classic.

I daresay it almost made me a little "homesick." Almost.

lisamcc at 7:50 p.m.

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