Born in the U.S.A.

I'm a long gone Daddy in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
I'm a cool rocking Daddy in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.

A bus in South America is a strange place for a tall gringo to be feeling patriotic. But when the driver reached up and boosted the volume on his overhead FM/cassette player and Bruce Springsteen's pop anthem accompanied the slightly cooler air coming in through the half-open sliding windows, I started bobbing my head and singing along. While I was enjoying my lengthy immersion in a foreign land, in that moment, I was fiercely proud to be from the United States.

One of my most memorable Fourth of Julys was spent in Tulcan, an Ecuadorian city just to the south of the Colombian border. I was part of a small district of missionaries (pictured below, right) and we decided that we would have a big "birthday" party for Henry, a local Church member. We really liked Henry so we decided to splurge a little and procure some exciting party favors at a local shop for the celebration to be held in the cement courtyard behind the chapel.

There was some butterfly-shaped firecrackers, just a piece of paper, really, wrapped tightly around two tight wings of gunpowder with a string/fuse tied down the middle. These would violently explode with a flash and a bang, twice . . . always sooner than you expected. But the real highlight was a bottle rocket unlike any you've ever seen. The propulsion section and explosive combined to be the length of a Pringles can but half the diameter. This was attached to a 5- or 6-foot piece of bamboo. We would lean one of these against a chair, light the fuse, and retreat rapidly. The rocket/bomb would shoot up into the night sky and explode in a brilliant burst of fire. Mesmerizing. Then every time, we would realize, almost too late, that a smoking chunk of broken bamboo was hurtling back to earth. It was then time to quickly locate the projectile and move nimbly to dodge it. Thankfully no one was injured as these were above and beyond your typical pinched Whistling Petes or even Wyoming fireworks.

Okay, I just checked my journal and the bottle rockets were only 3-feet tall. Hmm . . . odd how fish grow every time you tell the tale. Here's the rest of the journal entry in case I try to exaggerate again:

"We ate cake, listened to music, and oh, they whacked Henry 29 times with a belt, once for each year. He just stood there and took it. . . . Then we had a little "appreciate Henry" program, then set off fireworks. (Snuck a little U.S.A. tradition in the party, on the 4th of July, even, IMAGINE THAT?!) 3-foot bottle rockets (big ones!!) and double boom firecrackers that made your ears ring. Wild, they were super loud and very dangerous!"

After 21 months of the natives suspecting I was CIA (dark suit, tie, believable cover as a missionary), I returned to the U.S. on my birthday (the longest b-day ever, as the 747 crossed several time zones.)

The airport in Miami felt like something out of Star Wars, all shiny and ultra-modern. Then, the other fresh RMs and I spied something gleaming partway down the airport terminal. We began to shout, then started sprinting, pushing each other aside as we jockeyed for position. We must have been quite a sight for the other travelers as we slid to a stop at a drinking fountain and started gulping down water like we had been stranded in the Sahara. Clean, cold water at the touch of a button. Quite a miracle if you think about it.

Coming back to the U.S. was like a dream. Our gray-green money looked unreal. And there were so many white people in one place, and most of them weren't missionaries. It took me a while before Ecuador became the dream and the States the reality.

Well, it's time to cook up some ham, potato salad, mushroom soup with french fries on top, and some rice. No wait, that was 4th of July lunch in South America, as close as the “momita”—the sweet lady who cooked for us—could get to a "gringo" meal. Here, it's burgers and hanging out with the fam. Now, we just have to decide whether to watch G.I. Joe or Independence Day on blu-ray after we go and see the fireworks over the stadium.

Have a great Fourth! And a big shout out to the men and women in uniform who keep this country safe and the cold water running. Your sacrifices do not go unnoticed.