I found myself wondering: How on earth do you make the 250th celebration of the Declaration of Independence memorable? With absolutely no plans, I did what any responsible adult does — I searched the local papers and the internet and hoped inspiration would leap off the screen. It didn’t. If I wanted a memorable day, clearly I’d have to manufacture one myself.

On the third, Rich and I went to the local fireworks. They were fun… but the usual twenty‑minute sparkle. When we got home, I turned on the TV and watched the fireworks over Mount Rushmore — now that was impressive. I tried to stay awake for the President’s speech, but my eyelids staged a rebellion. I read the transcript in the morning. Very patriotic.

I was up at 5 a.m. (don’t ask me why). My neighbor and I did our usual three‑mile walk, but the air felt like soup and it was already 90 degrees. Half the country was under a heat dome, and I was determined to do something that didn’t involve melting. Shopping came to mind — naturally. I needed black boy shorts to go with my many bathing suit tops, and everything was on sale.

So off I went to an outdoor mall in Newton. I found the boy shorts… and a red dress I absolutely did not need. But the moment I saw it on the hanger, I knew it would fit. Silky, flared skirt, perfect for ballroom. I never expected that at age 69 I’d be buying a red dress — but somehow it caught my eye. Red feels patriotic, doesn’t it?

There was a car show in the parking lot, but the heat index was over 100 degrees. Only about fifteen cars showed up, but they had booked a seven‑piece live band — brass section and all — playing Chicago and Steely Dan covers. They were fabulous. I felt bad for them because most spectators were hiding in the shade. Only three of us (myself included) stood right in front of them. I was tempted to dance, but that felt like a headline waiting to happen, so I settled for enthusiastic clapping. I stayed until they played the national anthem and took a break. Honestly, if I were them, I would’ve called it a day. Nobody would’ve blamed them.

Then my daughter called: “Can I come home this afternoon?” “Well of course,” I said — and when she arrived, we spent the entire afternoon in the pool. The water temperature was 95 degrees, which is unheard of for our pool. It was fantastic.

After a traditional Fourth of July barbecue — hamburgers, corn, salads, watermelon — a front came through with fierce wind and rain. Pool toys flew everywhere, and we scrambled to rescue the lounge cushions and umbrella. We assumed the rest of the evening would be indoors.

But then, in the middle of the drizzle, we heard fireworks. Panoramic fireworks. Unexpected fireworks. All the local towns had already done theirs. It was the neighbors!

From our front yard, we saw spectacular bursts to the left, more to the right over the evergreens, and behind us we could hear even more — hidden by tall trees. The skies were exploding with color. It looked professional. We stood in the rain for thirty minutes watching the show.

And I thought: thank goodness — after 250 years, patriotism is still alive and well. The fireworks, the car shows, the live music, the July Fourth sales — all part of traditions that enrich our lives.

I hadn’t planned the holiday, but it turned out to be a memorable one. I hope you all enjoyed your day, despite the heat dome hovering over most of us. Now we just have to make sure the next 250 years are even better.

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By the way, my Sunday newsletter was delayed until this morning due to technical difficulties that I will try to resolve during the week. I hope you had a wonderful holiday. God willing, I will send out to you next Sunday. Best wishes always, Joanne