Happy 4th of July – See you in September
I’ve always liked Memorial day at the beginning of summer and then the 4th of July. I felt like I was really on vacation at last and the hamburgers and hot dogs were great. Even better was the JERSEY corn. We used to buy it literally 15 minutes after the farmer picked the ears and we’d have them all eaten within a couple of hours!
But I digress. What I think as I get older is that – as wonderful as the 4th of July is – and it is a national holiday - it just doesn’t feel like a national holiday the way Independence Day in Mexico does.
In the U.S. there are concerts, parades and fireworks in many major cities and I think throughout the country the smaller towns have picnics, fairs, games and rides – where they can still afford the insurance. It used to be a measure of the fiscal year – that ends June 30 – what a given municipality had to spend on 4th of July celebrations. ( I assume this year’s festivities were a bit more sedate.)
In Mexico Independence Day is the 15th and 16th of September. But here is the difference: in Mexico City the president must give the annual “Grito.” And in every muncipality (really they correspond to a county-level of government in the states) the municipal presidents give the “grito.” This is all at the same moment – with the exact same words. The message is repeated in hundreds of towns and cities. Everyone yells “VIVE Mexico” at the same time and the story of Father Hidalgo in Dolores Hidalgo is once more brought to mind. You can read more about the history and celebration of Mexico’s Independence here.
There are political implications and ramifications – and if something goes wrong it is talked about in all the newspapers and significant pressure is put on all these “performers” to get it right.
Of course, I lived through the bicentennial celebrations in 1976 in the United States. There was lots of history – then. Today I am not certain that any of it is relevant or interesting to anyone anymore. Still, I am not begging to return to some fantasy past that I know never existed.
But there is something to be said for living in a country that bears as much history – willingly though sometimes begrudgingly – as does Mexico. Maybe the act of everyone forcing a few politicians to ring a bell and say “VIVE Mexico” really does pull people together.
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