lead us from night to never ending day*

i opted out of walking the few blocks which opened up a fireworks view. instead, i sat, as the night got darker, and listened. i listened to the colorless show. the rhythms and beats as the explosions grew closer together… until, the grand finale of sound. it was different listening rather than watching. and i think i really liked it.

i love the 4th of july with all of its red, white and blueness. i am still, however, on the look out for traditions.

when i was younger i remember asking my granny all about her life growing up in the 30s and 40s. i find that era wonderful. the hair. the dresses. the music. the patriotism. the posters. the radio broadcasts. she would always remind me about the rations. the worry. the separation. the loss. the death. it wasn’t glamorous, she reminded. your brother or fiance may never have come home, she’d say. but still i continued my love affair with world war II.

so this year, i made star cupcakes and we watched alfred hitchcock’s 1940 film foreign correspondent. it was typical hitchcock filmography but it had an added element of eeriness since it debuted before world war II had become world war II.

during the end scene the globe reporter broadcasts to a still neutral america while the credits rolled to the star-spangled banner:

“okay, we’ll tell ‘em then. i can’t read the rest of the speech i had, ‘cause the lights have gone out, so i’ll just have to speak from the cuff. all that noise you hear isn’t static – it’s death, and its coming to london. yes, they’re coming here now. you can hear the bombs falling on the streets and on the homes. don’t tune me out now, hang on a while – this is a big story, and you’re part of it, it’s too late to do anything here now except to stand in the dark and let them come… as if the lights were all out everywhere, except in america. but keep those lights burning, cover them with steel, ring them with guns, build a canopy of battleships and bombing planes around them. hello, america, hang on to your lights: they’re the only lights left in this world!” [globe reporter: johnny jones/huntley haverstock]

the feeling at the conclusion of that black and white movie is what i imagined for my granny and my grandpa. that power which seems to be missing today – or maybe we just need to take the time to listen rather than watch the display.

*god of our fathers performed by the mormon tabernacle choir

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