We got wacky for the 4th. Maybe it was my weekend of 49 hours of sleep. Maybe it was Pink’s newly-passed grandfather’s spirit playing with our hearts. Maybe it was Da Man’s new Rockstar Gueetar makin’ him quirky. Or maybe it was SeanDee’s new big boy job right in the middle of the pedestrian hustle of Seattle’s we-need-this-more-than-a-transit-system 2nd stadium. Or just maybe it was Sokolicky and Hei’s 17 hour car ride made straight through that day from Salt Lake.
Or maybe it was just our Rockstar Orphan way of celebrating our Independence.
It started when Pink and I sat down to not-plan with our burning man list of preparation todosies. 'The man burns in 61 days!' we said. Pink returned from ‘grabbing a sweatshirt’ wearing full playa smile, coat and hat. Sapphire followed suit. Soon Da Man lugged the magic trunk from the basement, our gift to the playa last year. It’s a huge old trunk with chaotic wearable playthings. Hat’s, sashes, cloaks, turbans, huge glasses the size of bananas, tight pants to straddle the muff. SeanDee came by for fat tires, quesadillas and a history of filmography – in first person – his mighty turban no disguise for his wise. And after 17 hours of driving from the desert, Licky and Hei were greeted by the lovely trunk, waiting patiently to wrap it’s arms around their willing hips. We laughed as we dressed, ready for our exit.
‘Onto the adventure’, we said! We headed just blocks from the silken couches of the Leschi Lounge to the beach, the destination of many a late-night sunrise and early morning coffee. We parked on a bench behind dozens of peaceful boats and pondered how many might be filled with lovers’ kisses. 22% we decided, 22% rocking opposite the tide.
Though the rocket’s red glare did not burst directly above our eyes, we watched upon the horizon three-dozen pockets of illuminous celebration, large and small. We shared with families from afar what it means to be a free American. We celebrated that though we may not be able to marry who we want, teach all literature in public schools, or grow one of the most effective herbal medicines in our backyard, we can blow things up, rock out (as long as the cock is not out, mind you), and let our inner child play in the desert. For what else would you do in time like these, when everyone in America is a little bit wack?
