CELEBRATION AND COURAGE

Fourth of July and another year that I celebrated in good health, in a place of no bombed out destruction. The Minnesota Orchestra was inspiring on the Excelsior Green. The weather was perfect, as were the comfortable folding chairs I bought earlier in the day from Ace Hardware, with beverage holders for the frozen lemonade to go with the picnic supper. It was moving, honoring the veterans who stood with the songs representing their branches of service. The fireworks were gorgeous (as long as I kept my ears covered.) The crowds were calm and respectful. It was a great evening!

On our recent Holland America Line cruise, we Americans were outnumbered by the Dutch. Everything was announced in two languages, causing me once again to regret my poor knowledge of languages other than English. A majority of the Dutch were well advanced in age, as indicated by the walkers, wheelchairs, canes, walking sticks, and bent backs. But courage! Oh my. Nothing held them back. They made their way on all the walks, working their way up stone steps to enter old houses. Better than what I did. I figure if I’ve seen the inside of one old wooden house, I’ve seen them all, especially if I’m going to experience vertigo making my way down the stacked-up rocks that pass for stairs.

My father defined courage as doing that which one is afraid to do. I try to do that with important things. But for me, another part of courage, and of finally being a grown-up, is admitting I’m scared and avoiding unnecessary risks.

So what does all this have to do with peaceful July fourth celebrations and courage? My chiropractor reminded me that our Dutch companions were of the age that suffered the trauma of the Nazi occupation of WWII. On our last day we visited still-functioning windmills – the kind we think of as belonging to the Netherlands. Among other things, we learned that during the war the position of the blades sent messages like, “There’s a package to be picked up.” With gratitude for my annual good luck, I can only imagine the trauma and the courage of that wartime experience. – of any war.