I don’t know if it was the spirit of 4th of July weekend, or all of the Bruce Springstein and Zac Brown music, or the consistent chorus of U-S-A chants, or Charlie’s first beach trip, or the Women’s World Cup Victory, but it felt like a great weekend to be an American.
During the other 51 weeks out of the year, we may be critical about the problems our nation faces. But for this weekend, I was too grateful to be hateful. Because when you bring friends and family together with RED cups, WHITE sand, AND BLUE water, it really doesn’t get any better.
So on Saturday night, as I bounced Charlie around in the Baby Bjorn at happy hour, and the crowd belted out the country song “Chicken Fried,” I could see my American Dream playing out in front of me. With Zac Brown’s patriotic lyrics sharing all of the simple things in his life that he’s most grateful for, it made me think about what I would celebrate and recognize in my own personal version of “Chicken Fried.” I didn’t have to think long about it. I had been experiencing these things all weekend.
I thought about how excited Jordan was to present Charlie and I with matching 4th of July outfits. And I thought about the Sandlot-esque Independence Day Block Party with the Bonders and their friends in Haddonfield, NJ. And I thought about the rest of the weekend, when Charlie rocked a beaming, toothless smile in her red, white, and blue striped bathing suit when she touched the sand and salt water for the first time (which was followed by her first Jersey Shore meltdown when a little tiny wave rolled in.) And I thought about my first demonstration of “dad strength” when I carried the family’s umbrella, bags, towels, chairs, and toys from the Buckley’s Margate house to the beach. And the peace of sipping on a Spiked Seltzer or a Corona in the warm, summer sunshine as Charlie joyfully splashed around in the nearby shaded baby pool. And the competitive game of spike ball with my buddies followed by a postgame cool down in the refreshing waves. And where the only worry in my world was whether I missed a spot with the always elusive sunblock spray. And I thought about going back to the house where we shared more laughs, sang more songs, played more games, drank more beers and ate more food as everyone showered and got ready for the night to have more laughs, sing more songs, drink more beers, and eat more food. And I thought about the meals in which burgers and hot dogs are so good off the grill that they don’t need ketchup or mustard. And how we have these magical things called Baby Bjorns that allow me to be a family man without missing out on a good time with friends. And I thought about the luck of having a baby that can sleep through thunderstorms and fireworks. And I thought about the ease of waking up the next morning, recapping the weekend over a cup of coffee, driving home, and watching an amazing and inspiring group of women win the World Cup. And finally, I thought about one last long walk through the neighborhood with Jordan and Charlie to reminisce what just happened before getting ready to go back to work on Monday.
That is my Chicken Fried. That is what makes me so grateful for all of the people that sacrificed and continue to sacrifice to create a place where we can be lucky enough to have an experience like this. That memory right there is what makes me proud and lucky to be an American.
What’s your “Chicken Fried?” I hope you had a taste of it this past weekend.
The Janiec Reflection 