One of the great things about being born in January of 1971 is that I have living memory of America's bicentennial year. I remember, albeit through the filter of a child, what it was like to be living here in 1976.
In the build-up to that 4th of July, the unique greatness of the American experiment was openly celebrated, and the celebration was done without whitewashing the inevitable human sins that have always challenged it.
The USA was but eight years removed from the riots of '68, six from the Kent State shootings, and a trifling two from Richard Nixon resigning in disgrace and Gerald Ford making a triage decision to pardon him before the nation's wound could organically heal. Yet none of that dampened public enthusiasm for the nation's founding ideals, nor did it dampen public commitment to keep striving for them as the nation observed the 200th anniversary of them being put to paper.
The tails side of quarters minted that year featured a Revolutionary War drummer rather than the usual eagle, with the heads side stamped "1776-1976" rather than merely "1976." I remember holding those coins in my hand when they were new and shiny and hearing people talk about why they were being made "this year only" (side note: twenty-five cents then equates to almost a buck and a half now, but I digress).
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Kennedy Space Center celebrated America's 200th birthday with a summer-spanning shindig called Third Century America, which focused on the nation's role as the leading pioneer in space exploration, technology, and science. We - meaning myself, my parents, my cousin Rob, and my aunt and uncle - piled into a car and traveled across the state to experience it.
Real life rockets were on display. Some were laid on their sides with their boosters separated in sequence, allowing you to see up close how big those things were that fell back to earth before a rocket's capsule escaped Earth's atmosphere.
Geodesic domes containing different exhibits were arrayed on the grounds outside the iconic space center, and inside the center we were treated to the sight of something few normal people ever got to see: a computer.
Ed White (a fellow graduate of St. Pete High!) had already become the first man to walk in space and Neil Armstrong the first to walk on the moon. Those events were still recent from the perspective of adults, but computers themselves had yet to enter daily life and seemed somewhat fantastical. I know my memory is accurate when I say the computer was enormous and bigger than many rooms; I think my memory is accurate when I say it was bigger than some homes. I know my memory is accurate when I say the computer had many lights; I think my memory accurate when I say it made noises.
So while space travel had become real, had catapulted into the imaginations of people from coast to coast, and the USA was winning the space race against the USSR, the first mass-marketed personal computer had not yet been announced and the space shuttle did not yet exist - nor did Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, for that matter.
In hindsight, what a fascinating time that was to be alive in these United States! Yes I was a child, but I was an observant one who always paid attention to what the grown-ups were saying and doing. And even then, I often sat nearby and paid attention when my dad watched the evening news with Walter Cronkite. Today, I am here to say that one of the most striking differences between 1976 and 2026 lies in people's ability (or lack thereof) to properly differentiate goals from obstacles on the one hand, and to properly differentiate starting lines from finish lines on the other.
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Though there were many reasons for Americans to be pessimistic in that year of our bicentennial, they were overwhelmingly optimistic as they looked into the hazy, uncertain future and sought to fulfill America's promise without abandoning it.
They were well aware of proverbial ailing trees in the proverbial forest, but they did not lose sight of the forest's grandeur and they did not consider burning the whole thing down instead of tending specifically to the parts that were ailing.
Such has ceased to be the case in recent years, with so many adults having become infantile overly sensitive on social media and having sought to turn every human foible into an excuse for wielding power a dangerously political crusade... which makes it intriguing that with America's sestercentennial upon us, we are being reminded of its greatness not by our own unappreciative selves but by an influx of foreigners who've come here to watch a sport most of us don't even like.
Years ago I read John Steinbeck's novel Cannery Row. It is set in Monterey, California during the Great Depression, and contains a particular line that immediately lodged deep into my brain: One of the characters, a Chinese immigrant named Lee Chong, owned a corner grocery store that Steinbeck referred to as a "miracle of supply."
Three words. Miracle of supply. That was it. It summed up America in so many ways, despite referring to a common store from a poverty-riddled era long before such things as malls, Wal-Mart, Target, Cosctco, and Home Depot were even conceived.
There was poverty here, yet things were in reach for ordinary people that simply were not in reach elsewhere for ordinary people. On top of that, the industrious man who carved out a life for himself by bringing the miracle of supply to a sardine-packing district in a small port town was an immigrant from across the ocean. There is nothing more American than that.
America in 2026 remains an island of supply in a world filled with scarcity. Thing is, the scarcity of other nations is mostly artificial and needless, in the sense that it is imposed by governments that encumber their citizens' ingenuity and stifle their ability to meet demand. This is true even in ostensibly prosperous ones like Sweden, Germany, the UK, and Canada.
By contrast, America's government - despite being undeniably corrupt, power-mad, and in serious need of restraint - remains less of an encumbrance to its citizens than other nations' governments are to theirs.
We Americans mainain a "don't tell me what to do" spirit without even realizing it. And that spirit keeps our so-called leaders and would-be rulers at arm's length, however imperfectly, in ways we failed to appreciate until hordes of soccer fans arrived here for the World Cup. Now, thanks to their cell phone videos and social media posts, they have allowed us to see our country anew through their unjaundiced eyes.
Abundance... The ability to buy groceries, clothing, medicine, windshield wipers, TVs, bikes, and camping equipment all from the same store... Free water in all restaurants... Free refills of soda, tea, and coffee in said restaurants... Getting free chips and salsa simply for sitting down at a "Mexican" restaurant... Walking into a building on a scorching hot day knowing it'll be comfortable inside thanks to air-conditioning... Parking lots big enough to find spaces, with those spaces being big enough to accommodate insanely large vehicles... Highways with a half-dozen lanes all wide enough for an 18-wheeler... Ranch dressing... Scores of options on our store shelves when it comes to bread, beverages, chips, sweets, fruit, vegetables, cold cuts, toothbrushes, shampoo, and on and on and on.
We take these things for granted. Fortunately, our international guests are reminding us we should not. They tell us these things are dazzling and unthinkable to them.
But more importantly, our international guests are gushing about our friendliness, our hospitality, and our eagerness to converse, engage, encourage, and share. They tell us these traits are the norm here but not elsewhere, and they tell us these traits are like leaven to their hearts.
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From where I sit, America's abundance and friendliness are intertwined. You can't have one without the other.
Our friendliness points to abundance, because we want to help and want to meet demand; while our abundance points to friendliness because it is truly within our cumulative ability to help and to meet demand.
And - this is key - our ability to do all this and to thus become a mega version of Lee Chong's "miracle of supply" exists simply because the majority of us look to ourselves and our populace for solutions, rather than looking to our government.
On this sestercentennial of the Declaration of Independence, let us look through the eyes of our visitors to recall the source of our blessings.
Technically, P.J. O'Rourke was talking about responsibility when he said it comes from friends, family, self, and social ties. But that truth applies every bit as much to provision as it does to responsibility. So on this sestercentennial, let us also remember O'Rourke's warning that government is only meant to be "something we use in an emergency."
The United States was founded specifically to oppose centralized power and uphold the dignity of human beings. We have often failed to live up to that promise, but we have never stopped striving for it. And since we have come much closer to grasping it than anyone else, we must not lose sight of it, and must not permit ourselves to be pitted against each other by orators and snake oil salesmen masquerading as leaders.
Independence Day is tomorrow. Enjoy it and appreciate it. God bless.
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