Three days ago, I sat down here, prepared to pout. But then the world stepped in and coaxed me out of it.

Perhaps an explanation might be in order. As this nation crept closer and closer to celebrating the 250^th anniversary of declaring its independence from Great Britain, I felt less and less in a partying mood. Honestly, I was mad as hell that in 2024, 77.3 million Americans decided to use the hard-won power of their vote to say elect one of the most corrupt, least qualified, most cravenly immoral leaders this country has ever seen. 

For the SECOND TIME, no less!

And now, 19 months after his inauguration, those same 77.3 million people are seeing first-hand the fruits of their folly. They see runaway inflation. They see senseless war. They see injustice glorified. They see public health decimated. They see international alliances burnt to the ground. They see their civil liberties threatened. They see all of this and respond by shrugging their shoulders. As if to say, “Oh well. If you want to make an omelet, you’ve got to break a few eggs.”

They all seem happy to vote against their own self-interest as long as the Bully-in-Chief panders to their basest, most racist, most jingoistic impulses. Gazing at all of this, I also have zero doubt that this resident (I remove the “p” for dramatic effect) plans to take this celebration of our nation’s 250^th birthday and make it all about himself. Because that is just what he does.

Because of all these things, I was approaching this milestone national birthday with a gigantic chip on my shoulder. “Can’t make me celebrate,” I sulked, lower lip protruding. “I won’t give him the pleasure.” 

But then I started seeing them… The unsolicited accolades that began popping up all over social media from international visitors to the FIFA World Cup. People from Germany, Algeria, The Netherlands, South Africa, Spain, France, and more, all competing to see who can shower their American hosts with the highest expressions of praise and gratitude for the incredibly amazing country we have here. 

They are flipping out over the miracle of Ranch dressing. They can’t believe the sheer size of everything… including our soft drinks. The Algerian team and fans were blown away when the University of Kansas marching band learned the Algerian national anthem and serenaded them with it. 

Shopping malls astound them. The ritual of pre-game tailgating seems too wonderful to be true. To a person they keep saying things like, “I had no idea the people and the country of the United States would be so incredibly incredible. Nothing we see in the media in our country led us to believe things would be so positive, warm, and friendly here.” 

You almost (but not quite) get the feeling they will be sad to leave here when their team is finally eliminated from competition.

And so, I thought, “Well, shit. I guess there really is a lot to love about this misguided country of mine after all. True, we made a colossal blunder in our choice of president (a choice, by the way, for which we will be paying decades into the future), but that shouldn’t take away the true splendor of this wild, wonderful experiment in constitutional democracy.”

Fifty years ago, on the occasion of this nation’s bicentennial, I had no such pouting impulse. I was ready to light off strings of Black Cats, attend parades, wrap myself in red, white and blue bunting, and party like it was 1999 in 1976. The thing is, our country’s record was just as spotty back then. We had just concluded a disastrous campaign in Vietnam. A war that had lasted over 10 years, cost over 58,000 U.S. lives and just over $1 trillion inflation-adjusted U.S. dollars, and gained us nothing. Racism was still alive and well in 1976. Income inequality reigned. Corporate corruption was just as rife as it is today. The health of the environment was under continuous assault by the unchecked burning of fossil fuels.

And yet, we were not nearly the fractured, tribal place we are today. I recall that bicentennial celebration as a time when it was possible to join hands, shield our eyes – just for a moment – from our leaders’ mishaps and blunders, and remember the glorious vision of our Founders. I remember it as a time when we all pledged to right our collective wrongs and rededicate ourselves to fulfilling that vision. I remember it as a moment of looking forward in hope in equal measure with looking backward with pride. It was a time of “US.” Not “US and Them.”

And then I realized I had allowed my outrage and anger to wipe out memories of that national bon homie of fifty years hence. I had forgotten it, that is, until all these visitors from abroad came calling and reminded me once again of all that is truly worth celebrating about this big, beautiful, blundering, bountiful place.

So happy birthday, U.S.A. How about you get your shit together and start acting the part.