The seventh month of the year proves to be too much for me.The national celebration of the
country's independence is marked in our household with gusto. My husband and I grew up among relatives who came from foreign soil to become Americans. Celebrating America and acting as an American is a natural imperative. So, Fourth of July is a big deal.
Of course, living in Utah, our neighbors remember the courageous Mormon pioneers who trekked across the United States in search of religious freedom. Fearless people who sought a place to practice their new founded religion. Today, they celebrate because of the categorical imperative of their ancestors. Multiple week long festivities and gatherings commemorate their ancestors' bravery.
The partying continued with family and friends who entered the world in the month of July. This was the first year our youngest daughter was in Utah for her birthday. We celebrated her birthday and her presence with gusto. This summer we rolled from one event to another.
Summer's celebrations and distractions offers a writer moments to stop and observe humanity. The warm weather elicits youthfulness in everyone. The human race smiles readily. Laughter permeates parks, restaurants, swimming pools, and sidewalks. The children are carefree as they run through musically-timed fountains. Car windows rolled down provide impromptu concerts from the driver and sometimes passengers. Couples of all ages hold hands as they lift their faces toward the sky. I ask you. Does people watching count as "writing time?"
