For more than two decades, my family has gathered on Independence Day to celebrate the holiday and spend a fun summer day together. The venue has changed only a couple of times over the years; we now gather at my sister's house, originally owned by my parents and the house in which my sisters and I grew up.
The house is situated on a lovely hill in the San Francisco Bay Area, and panoramic views from the living room windows span topography that stretches from the north to east to south bay. We used to be able to see 3 bridges from those windows, but neighbors added a second story to their home blocking our line of sight to the Golden Gate Bridge.
Following a day of fun in the sun and barbecued dinner, firework displays begin all over the bay area. And we can see about a dozen of them from the living room of my sister's home. Each and every "rocket's red glare" is especially appreciated because fireworks are outlawed in the county where we live.
And so we gather and watch star bursts of color pop up across the panorama. It's after 9:00 p.m. and the only sounds we hear are our voices and a few crickets. Once the fireworks subside, we all head home. If I arrive home early enough, I'll watch the Boston Pops play a few patriotic songs before ending the day.
Ah tradition.
