Happy Treason Day!

This bald eagle isn’t feeling particularly patriotic.

Photo by Rene Bernal on Unsplash

“Patriotism means loyalty to your country all the time, and loyalty to the government when it deserves it.” — Sam Eagle

I’m staring at the cache of fireworks in my garage, and I’m torn. I bought them last year in another state, so you know they are the good kind. My plan was to go toe-to-toe with the guy on the other side of my neighborhood this year, only I’m not sure my heart is in it.

I have loved the Fourth of July ever since I was a child. My friends and I would load up on fire crackers, bottle rockets, roman candles, and mortars to see who could lose body parts the fastest. We would spend all day on the beach lighting fuses and chaining together fireworks to make ever bigger explosions. When the sun went down, we would gather with our families to watch the town’s firework show. We kept all of our digits, surprisingly, but a few eyebrows were singed.

A patriotic pyromaniac still lurks within me. Even as a responsible adult (debatable) and father, I feel called once a year to blow sh*t up. I grill hot dogs and eat desserts dipped in red, white, and blue food coloring while listening to Born in the USA on blast (I know it’s not actually a patriotic song). I regard this as my God-given American birthright.

My Fourth of July routine starts the day prior when I make margarita mix from scratch. I follow a Cook’s Illustrated recipe, which calls for fresh squeezed lemons and limes combined with sugar. The mix is left to steep in the refrigerator overnight to give the flavors time to meld. I choose a quality tequila, usually Patron Silver, and whatever triple sec is sitting in the cupboard. Sometimes, I add the juice from a jar of chopped jalapeños. It gives the drink a nice kick. I prefer my margarita on the rocks with salt. I admit this not the most patriotic choice of alcohol. A traditionalist would opt for a domestic lager, but margaritas are my thang and you can judge all you like, I don’t care.

Around noon on the Fourth, I start to consume these adult beverages while supervising my son and his friends as they play with relatively harmless fireworks—your run-of-the-mill pop-its and miniature fountains. Little boys with fireworks fall into two categories: those who run away and those who try to get as close to the explosion as possible. I keep an eye on the latter. I know the type, intimately.

A few margaritas later, bald eagles course through my veins. It’s at about this time my son and I reenact 1776 in our special way. You see, for some reason I will never fully understand, he identifies as British. Those of you who have met my son, realize I’m not joking. On the morning of, he will come downstairs wearing a t-shirt with an image of Queen Elizabeth II that says ‘Make America Great Britain Again.’ While I’m belting out Born in the USA, he sneaks over to the stereo and switches on Rule Britannia. He proclaims himself loyal to the crown and makes excuses for the tyrant King George III while impugning George Washington’s good name.

This scene unfolds in my living room each Fourth of July. Only it doesn’t end in British surrender. Usually, I go too far mocking his beloved Red Coats, he gets upset, and then I feel bad. That’s what pitchers full of margaritas are for, to assuage parental guilt.

Then night falls. Inebriated, stumbling through the dark, I wrestle with explosives in the middle of the backyard. Family and friends watch from a safe distance, wondering if they should intervene. Ultimately, they do not. No one else is eager to perform the ceremonial duties. I like to think it’s because I am the only fireworks qualified adult, but it’s more likely because they drank fewer margaritas.

Only this year, I’m not sure if I want to light the fuses. I’m not feeling particularly patriotic. Donald Trump has taken this from me.

It feels wrong to celebrate when people are losing jobs, healthcare, and their bodily autonomy, not to mention being thrown in foreign gulags. That’s how incipient Donald Trump is. He finds a way to steal from everyone. Some literally, and others figuratively. If he cannot take our dignity, then he will settle for your pride.

He wants us to believe in a base and callous world; to look in the mirror and see our worst instincts, not our best, and to be okay with it. He is a leader who asks us to embrace cruelty and fear, not strive for a more perfect union.

Which brings me back to July 4, 1776. On that day, the Declaration of Independence announced the American colonies' separation from Great Britain. It’s worth revisiting some of the colonists’ grievances against the king:

• He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone...

• He has… sent hither Swarms of Officers to harrass our People...

• He has kept among us, in Times of Peace, Standing Armies, without the consent of our Legislatures

• He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil Power

• For cutting off our Trade with all Parts of the World

• For depriving us, in many Cases, of the Benefits of Trial by Jury

• For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended Offences

• He has excited domestic Insurrections amongst us

• …altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments

Sound familiar? Hit a little close to home?

Maybe it’s in the spirit of the Declaration of Independence I will celebrate this Fourth of July. After all, treason is the reason for the season.

Blake

PS — Just this:

One more PS for all my margarita fans —

Yield: Makes about 1 quart, serves 4

The longer you steep the zest and juice mixture, the more developed the citrus flavor. I also like to spice things up by pouring the juice from a jar of chopped jalapeños into my glass.

Ingredients

• 4 teaspoons grated lime zest

• 1/2 cup lime juice from 2 to 3 medium limes

• 4 teaspoons grated lemon zest

• 1/2 cup lemon juice from 2 to 3 medium lemons

• 1/4 cup superfine sugar

• pinch table salt

• 1 cup 100 percent agave tequila , preferably Reposado

• 1 cup Triple Sec

Directions

1. Combine the lime zest and juice, lemon zest and juice, sugar, and salt in large liquid measuring cup; cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until flavors meld, 4 to 24 hours.

2. Strain juice mixture into 1-quart pitcher or cocktail shaker. Add tequila, Triple Sec, and remaining crushed ice; stir or shake until thoroughly combined and chilled, 20 to 60 seconds. Strain into ice-filled glasses; serve immediately.