The Fourth of July in the age of Trump

As our country is in turmoil and our national holiday is this week, I have been thinking a lot about the Fourth of July and what it means at this time.

(I have occasionally seen memes saying we should not call it the Fourth of July but instead call it by its "proper" name, Independence Day. I understand the sentiment, but historically it has more commonly been referred to as the Fourth of July, so if anything "the Fourth of July" is more truly American. It has become a widely accepted element of our culture.)

Some people might be disinclined to celebrate Independence Day because of our president. Donald Trump, at best, at minimum, is a bully. I have no need to elaborate here; it should be pretty obvious. If you support Trump, nothing will sway you; if his actions haven't already disillusioned you, nothing will.

But if you aren't celebrating the Fourth because of Trump, you are letting him win. The United States of America do not belong to Donald Trump. The United States of America belong to We the People. Uh, Us the People. He has not always been the president, and he will not always be.

Celebrate the Fourth of July because we have checks and balances, so he can't do whatever harmful, selfish thing he wants. Celebrate the Fourth because we have presidential terms, not monarchical reigns.

Some people might not want to celebrate the Fourth of July because of the problems we have in our country. And we certainly have them. We have systemic racism, a gun problem, and hoards of other issues.

But loving our country does not mean that we think it's perfect or even that it's the best country. But we can appreciate the good. And because we love our country, it will help us want to make it better. The Fourth of July is not only about what America is but also what we want it to be.

But even though we have our share of problems, we can't forget all the good we have. It would be futile for me to list all the good, because there's so many good things we often take them for granted. Other countries don't have what we have.

For example, when I worked at BYU Studies, I helped proofread a book that was sent to China to be printed because it was cheaper to print there. But China would not print it unless we removed the references to Taiwan and Mongolia and changed them to China. This year, at the Sundance Film Festival, I watched an Iranian film that had to be approved by their government. And in parts of India right now, Muslims are actively persecuted with violence. We cannot take our freedom of religion or speech for granted.

Some of my own historical research has been enlightening. The Mormon pioneers were furious with the government. They had been driven from state to state by mobs, and the government didn't help them. Yet they still enthusiastically celebrated the Fourth of July because they appreciated the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. In fact, they created celebrations for the Twenty-Fourth of July, which was essentially the Fourth all over again. At a Twenty-Fourth of July celebration in 1854, Leo Hawkins said, “On the 4th of July we express our patriotic feelings, and revere the men who burst the shackles of tyranny, and introduced a new dynasty into the political world." In 1852, Daniel H. Wells said, "Shall we forget our history? If we do, we shall be unlike our revolutionary fathers, who take great care not only to commemorate theirs, but impress upon their children every notable circumstance pertaining to the birth of Freedom."

Which brings us to another point. Some people might not want to celebrate Independence Day because of problems in America's history. And boy, are there problems in America's history. Slavery and the decimation of Native Americans are the biggest, most glaring, but there are plenty of others: internment camps, Plessy v. Ferguson, etc.

Celebrating the Fourth does not mean we condone or celebrate those bad parts. We need to be aware of our history so we can know how it still adversely affects people today.

But we also can't forget the good parts. We stood up against tyranny. We put men on the moon. One of our most iconic symbols has a plaque to welcome the tired, poor "wretched refuse."

And here's a not-so-comforting thought: I don't think there is a single nation or culture in the world that does not have a troubled history. We like to think that since we are all humans, we are all a brotherhood capable of compassion and love. But there is an unfortunate flip side. As humans, we are all capable of cruelty, tribalism, and oppression of those who are different from us.

But those foibles do not forbid us from honoring heritage. Chinese people can honor their heritage even though their ancestors practiced foot binding; Utah Native Americans can honor their heritage even though their ancestors sold captive children into slavery; Germans can honor their heritage even though, you know, the Holocaust.

There is a common phrase we hear: "I'm proud to be an American." I don't object to the expression, but I don't know that I can agree with it, because I didn't do anything to be born American. I can be proud of my publications or my calf muscles, because I worked for those things. I feel lucky and privileged to be American, but I can't take pride in something I didn't work for.

The people who can really say they're proud to be Americans are the immigrants, because they chose to be Americans. They actually did hard things to be American.

I would also say that military personnel, both current and veterans, can be proud to be Americans, because they directly did something to preserve and defend America. (In case you haven't heard, there's a new report that Russia has been paying the Taliban bounties for American soldiers. This is 100 percent unacceptable. Our leaders cannot let this happen.)

Thanks to a certain pandemic, this Independence Day will be unlike any we have ever experienced. But I will still celebrate—to honor the America we already have and to hope for an even better country in the future.

***
 In frivolous news, I saw this commercial on TV last night and couldn't believe it was real.

The pursuit of happiness

When I think about the things that I like, I really just like happiness.

I like nature, kitties, kitsch, wildflowers, holidays, camp, colors, whimsy, sugar, and nostalgia.

I don't like violence, fighting, bad words, or gross things.

Some of you might recall that when I was an awkward teenager (instead of an awkward adult), I was really into the macabre. In tenth grade, I had to study for a spelling test that had the word "cemetery," and I thought that was my kind of word. So for years I kind of defined myself by darkness.

But even then, I think deep down I really just liked happiness. I wanted to be a vampire of the Sesame Street or Munsters variety, and all that stuff was connected to Halloween—which really is a happy thing. We say "Happy Halloween," not "Horrible Halloween."

In the last few years, I have fallen in love with the obscure band the Free Design, who sang songs about kites, springtime, ivy, leaves, dolphins, bubbles, butterflies, umbrellas, and more. That is how I would rather define myself. Happiness, not darkness.

Now, since I like joy so much, I get frustrated when people (criminals or bullies) do things to disrupt that joy. I'm trying to work on being more charitable to those people. I don't have to wish for bad things to happen to them, but I can hope they experience adverse consequences for their bad behavior.

The real world is far too wonderful and fascinating to spend much time in fictional worlds. Remember that North Canyon mushroom I've been telling you about? It was broken this week, but that meant I got to see some kind of circular structure on the inside of it.

 I also got to see snow there on Wednesday, which was not there the day before. It's a good thing I did my 12.7-mile run on Tuesday instead of muddy Wednesday.

I took my youngest nephew, Nathaniel, on a three-hour, eight-mile hike on Friday. I hope to pass on this fantastic hobby to the rising generation.

It's too bad my finger photobombed this selfie 🙄

I spent a few hours yesterday picking cherries at my sister's house. How utterly fantastic that we can grow our own sweet fruit! Our neighbors are planning on cutting down their apple tree, which hangs over into our yard, and I think that is a tremendous tragedy.

On Monday, I used my fingers to scoop up cat hair that had accumulated under my bed, which is one of Jimmy's favorite spots.

All the shedding is not ideal, but he's so adorable that it's worth it. He often sleeps on my bed, and it's so endearing to see the silhouette of his ears in the darkness and hear his breathing when I wake up in the middle of the night (which has been a daily occurrence lately). Some of you don't like cats, but you don't know what it's like to have him sit on your chest and purr and rub his head against your face.

I envisioned this post being more profound and thought provoking than it ended up being. But that's OK, 'cause I like lighthearted frivolity.

Mushrooms/lemonade/sego/poppies

I promise that this week I'm going to talk about things besides running.

But first, I have to share some of the wonderful things I saw this week.

Last week, when I hiked up North Canyon with my nephews, we saw a large mushroom.

But this week, it had doubled in size! I was amazed.

They grow up so quickly.

I also found myself surrounded by swarms of butterflies. I've been surrounded by butterflies before, but never as much as this week. But I must say all those butterflies made me a little uncomfortable. I didn't want them to fly into my mouth, and I worried that I might hurt them. But they're harmless, so it's better than being surrounded by stinging insects or mosquitoes. They congregate on wet dirt, and Wikipedia tells me they're consuming minerals.

Sego lily season continues to amaze me. I disagree with many of the state symbols that were selected in the past, but they did a good job with sego lilies. (At some point I need to write to a legislator to get the state rock changed to sandstone, because coal does not represent our geologic state very well.)

It amazes me that cell phone cameras are good enough to capture bees in sego lilies with minimal effort.

As you probably know, I only consume candies, desserts, and drinks with a holiday theme. Last year, I officially began considering lemonade a Fourth of July drink. In this day and age, lemonade is generally seen as a summer thing, not necessarily an Independence Day thing. But in my historical research, I have learned that in the decades surrounding the turn of the twentieth century, lemonade was very much part of the Fourth of July, almost as iconic as firecrackers. And I'm more than happy to welcome it to the family of seasonal food, because there is comparatively little for the Fourth of July. Last week, my mom bought lemons so we could have fresh lemonade. And it really is the best lemonade I have ever had. Even using bottled lemon juice doesn't have the same result.

I have also enjoyed having other items flavored like lemonade (or strawberry lemonade): frosted lemonade, gum, cookies, Powerade, and even Tums.

Last week, I watched the Republican gubernatorial debate between Spencer Cox, Greg Hughes, John Huntsman, and Thomas Wright. And to me, the clear choice is Spencer Cox. He understands both rural and urban Utah. He doesn't support Trump, which shows he hasn't sold his soul to the party. He has support from people whom I consider far right but also from people who lean left. He has proven leadership during this difficult time, and he values public health. And more than any other candidate, he exudes kindness.

I am an unaffiliated voter, so I can't vote in the Republican primary. So to show my support, I ordered a Cox sign. I don't know who delivered it, but they went ahead and put it in our yard.

When I think about the way my political opinions have changed, much of it has come when I have heard opinions from people whom I respect. So I hope that showing my support for Cox will sway people who respect my opinion.

I think Huntsman and Wright are roughly equal; they would be OK, but not my ideal choice. But Hughes exemplifies everything wrong with the Republican party. Whatever you do, don't vote for him!

On Thursday afternoon, my school plans got real. I had a Zoom meeting with the other matriculated grad students; it was my first time ever being on a Zoom meeting. We all introduced ourselves and asked question to the outgoing and incoming directors of graduate studies. It was good to get some of my questions answered. It alleviated some of my nervousness, though I'm still plenty nervous to start school.

This week, my sister and niece had seen posts on social media of a poppy field near Mantua, Utah. So we took a little road trip to the poppy field. I thought I was clever by making a comment that I hoped we wouldn't fall asleep and then have it start snowing, but then my sister said my dad (who didn't come with) said the same thing.

It was a pretty poppy field, but it was small. There were tons of people there. I don't think it's worth all those people driving to Mantua for this small field. But I don't regret going; we need to make fun memories during this strange year.

Really, my beloved Woodbriar Trail has just as stunning fields of flowers.

35,000 Steps

Three years ago, I first ran up Mueller Park to Rudy's Flat, which was twelve miles round trip. It was totally exhausting. But I have also done that a few other times.

At one point I thought, "If I get in really good shape, maybe I could instead go up North Canyon to Rudy's Flat, then keep going down to Elephant Rock, then turn around." But that would be even longer and harder.

So guess what I did this week?

I did the typical seven-mile North Canyon run on Monday, but on Tuesday it was time to meet my new goal.

Past Rudy's Flat (the 3.5-mile mark), the trail is less familiar, but I've still been there enough to know what to expect. There are pockets with no shade, and that's part of why I wanted to get this done before it gets to be later in the summer. Running in the sun in the summer isn't very enjoyable.

When I made it to Elephant Rock, I felt very accomplished. I made it! It was more than six miles to get there. But I was also nervous, because I had to go uphill again for not quite three miles, and then still three and a half more miles downhill.

But I did it! In total, I went 12.75 miles, took 26,651 steps, and climbed 2,523 feet. It took more than three hours (because I am slow). Timewise, that is my longest run ever, and distancewise, it is my second-longest run ever. Only my half marathon was longer, but that was paved and mostly downhill. That means this was officially my most challenging run ever.

But the best part is that I wasn't even that exhausted afterwards. I still had enough energy to continue my day as normal, including going on a small walk in the evening to look for goathead plants. (I didn't find any.) My watch says I burned 5,000 calories, the most I've ever burned (though I think it gets less accurate the higher it gets). Fitbit gives you a badge every time you reach a 5,000-step benchmark that you haven't before, so I got a "Trail Shoe" badge for hitting 30,000 steps for the first time. (I thought it was fitting that it was a trail shoe badge, since that's what I used to get it.) I ended up with more than 34,000 steps, but I thought it would diminish the specialness if I got two badges in a day, especially if I was taking pointless steps just to get the second badge.

But despite getting all those steps on Tuesday, I still had the energy for another big day on Wednesday. In the morning, I did the usual seven-mile North Canyon run.

Then that night, I took my bookend nephews, Preston and Nathaniel, up North Canyon. It was my second time for the day, but their first time ever. I wanted to hit 35,000 steps for the day. But I was super annoyed, because my Fitbit sometimes restarts for no reason, and this time, it wasn't working for longer than usual. So there was about ten minutes when it wasn't counting my steps!

We saw this giant mushroom, the first time I have ever seen something like that!

We ended up ending our hike in the dark, since we got started later than I would have liked. When we were done, I was at 34,000 steps. If my watch had been working, I probably would have been at 35,000. Since I was cheated, I went on a late walk up the block to get 35,000, my new record.

All that exertion was starting to catch up with me. On Thursday, I didn't run in the morning, and I only did a three-mile run on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail in the evening. But what a run! It could not have been better. The almost-full moon was over the mountains, the sunset was one of the spectacular I have ever seen, there was a summer fragrance in the air, and the sego lilies had started to bloom. But I could feel my Achilles' tendons.

On Friday, I really felt sore, so I didn't run at all. I went on a four-mile evening hike with Nathaniel, and I was not in great shape.

Sticky geraniums

Common paintbrush

It brings me great joy to see all the sego lilies every June, since they're so iconic. In January, I had a job interview, and we talked about wildflowers. When I said sego lilies were my favorite, one of the interviewers seemed surprised that I would see them. But if you know where to go, they're pretty common (and uncommonly pretty).

But I did nothing physical on Saturday, in part because I needed to recover. (I spent a lot of time doing stuff for school.) But I hope to be back on the trails this week!