Tag Archives: Fourth of July

local news

You want fireworks? Try this display

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Fourth of July 2017 brought back a special memory for yours truly.

It goes back 22 years to our very first Independence Day celebration in the Texas Panhandle. It involves lots of fireworks — as in Roman candles and assorted ordnance that went “boom!” in the night — and a display brought to us by good ol’ Mama Nature herself.

I had come to work for the Amarillo Globe-News in January 1995 and was informed that the newspaper played host to an annual fireworks show. It was a big deal for the company. The publisher of the G-N, Garet von Netzer, told me how the paper would have a company picnic at Ross Rogers Municipal Golf Club; the G-N took over the site for the evening. We had barbecue, played games, and were entitled to bring guests to enjoy the festivities.

The neighborhoods around Ross Rogers and adjoining Thompson Park would fill with thousands of spectators who came from miles away to witness the annual tradition.

That’s what we did on July 4, 1995. It would be a blast, man … no pun intended.

As the sun lowered itself in the western sky that evening, thunderheads began to form over Bushland. Then around 9:45 p.m. or so, they lit the fireworks and the show began.

Boy howdy, did it ever! The sky then lit up with lightning strikes and the sound of enormous thunderclaps. The fireworks launched into the sky were backlit by, shall we say, the real thing.

It was an astonishing display of Mama Nature’s mighty power juxtaposed with humankind’s meager efforts at replicating it.

It was our great luck that the storm we witnessed to our west stayed away that evening. We saw it from a bit of a distance, but we were close enough to hear it, to feel it — and to marvel in its splendor.

I thought about that wonderful evening last night as I stood on my front porch watching the lightning fire up the sky while listening in the distance to fireworks that were being ignited by some brave souls seeking to celebrate the 241st year of our national independence.

I walked into the publisher’s office the next morning, by the way, still in awe at what my wife and I had witnessed the previous evening 22 years ago. “Hey, Garet,” I asked, “is there any chance you can order up that kind of display every Fourth of July?”

His answer? “That’s the power of the press for you.”

national news, political news

Yep, the founders got it (mostly) right

Two hundred forty-one years later, it’s good to look back on what the nation’s founding fathers signed.

They stated in that document of independence declaration that “all men are created equal.” They put their names on the Declaration of Independence, many of them picked up their muskets and then went to war against the British Empire.

The fighting stopped in 1781. Then the founders went to work crafting a governing document we now know as the U.S. Constitution.

Did they get it 100 percent right when they signed off on that framework? Not really. I can think of two egregious errors of omission in that document.

The founders did not grant “all men” equal rights. Black men were enslaved. They were considered to be three-fifths of a human being. All men were created equal? No. The Emancipation Proclamation would set the slaves free in 1863, but it would take the nation two more years to ratify the 13th Amendment to the Constitution that abolished slavery once and for all.

Nor did the founders grant women full rights of citizenship, although they likely thought they were doing so at the time. Women couldn’t vote. They were mere spectators. It took the government a good bit longer to correct that error. In August 1920, the 19th Amendment was ratified, granting suffrage to women.

Thirty or 40 years ago, I might be inclined to dwell on those negative elements of our nation’s history. Today, I choose to concentrate on what the founders did right.

Their forebears came to this new land to escape religious persecution. Thus, the founders created a secular Constitution. They granted every citizen religious freedom, which also means they were free to not worship if they chose.

The founders separated the government into three co-equal branches, granting equal power to each of them. The president proposes laws; Congress disposes of them; the courts ensure their constitutionality.

The great Winston Churchill famously declared that representative democracy is the worst form of government ever created, but is superior to anything else. The founders, of course, didn’t anticipate such wisdom coming from the British Bulldog.

I also am quite certain they would agree with him.

Therefore, I choose to salute the founders’ success today. Their government is being tested yet again. I remain confident it will continue to function as those great men intended.

International news

These great Americans would be appalled

These are three great Americans. I knew two of them well; one of them died when I was an infant.

I want to write about them this weekend for a couple of reasons: to celebrate their love of the United States of America as it approaches its 241st year of existence and to comment on how I believe they would be reacting to the national mood emanating from the halls of power.

They are three of my four grandparents. From left they are: Katina Kampras Kanelis, my father’s mother; George Filipu, my mother’s dad; and Diamontoula Panesoy Filipu, Mom’s mother. John Peter Kanelis, my father’s dad and the man for whom I was named, was somewhere else, I reckon, when someone snapped this picture.

They were immigrants. Mr. and Mrs. Filipu came here near the turn of the 20th century from — get a load of this! — a Muslim-majority country. They were ethnic Greek residents of Turkey, which prompts me to ponder whether they would be welcome today. My grandmother Katina hailed from Kyparissia, a village in southern Greece.

They were great Americans. They loved this country more than life itself. Indeed, my “Yiayia” — Diamontoula Filipu — died on the Fourth of July, 1978. My wife has reminded me that Yiayia left us on that day just to ensure that we’d remember. I do. My Papou George — who died in January 1950 — loved this nation so much that in 1918, he enlisted in the U.S. Army just so he could obtain instant U.S. citizenship. He wanted to fight in World War I, but the war ended before he got the chance to see actual combat.

All of my grandparents were, shall we say, undereducated. They lacked a lot of formal education, but that didn’t prevent them from carving out great lives in the Land of Opportunity. Papou George operated a bakery; Yiayia was a homemaker. Papou John worked a number of jobs in America: steelworker, hotel manager and then he shined shoes in downtown Portland, Ore; my grandmother Katina also was a homemaker.

They were great because they loved their country arguably more than many of their peers who were born here. They came here because they wanted to be here, which to my mind makes them uber-patriots.

My Kanelis grandparents did return to Greece in the late 1950s. After my grandmother died in September 1968, Papou John returned twice more to Greece; he died in 1981 at the age of 95. My Yiayia and Papou George never went back to the “old country.” Yiayia always felt that the United States was “home” and she had no desire to return to the nation of her birth.

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How might these great Americans react to what’s transpiring these days? I don’t recall any of them having acute political instincts. But my hunch is that they would be aghast at the kind of rhetoric we’re hearing these days.

This mantra calling for us to “make America great again” likely would enrage them. America is great. These great Americans came here because of this nation’s greatness. They forged their lives, reared 10 children among the four of them.

They would be aghast at the angry rhetoric. They wouldn’t endorse the behavior we keep witnessing from the president of the United States. They would want to remind everyone that we are a nation of immigrants. Every single American whose ancestry isn’t linked to those who were here when the settlers arrived comes from an immigrant background.

My grandparents understood it far better than many of our current leaders do today.

They were among the greatest Americans this great nation has ever welcomed. I am proud beyond measure to be their grandson.

local news

Love that patriotic pageantry!

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independence-day-sharon-mick

I am a serious sucker for pageantry.

I love the sound of bagpipes in a parade; the sound of “Ruffles and Flourishes” when the president enters a room; I love the red, white and blue.

We’re flying our flag again today. We join millions of other Americans in displaying the colors as the nation celebrates its 240th birthday.

Think of it: It’s been 40 years since the Bicentennial! Holy cow!

I’ll admit I usually stay close to home during the Fourth of July holiday. We don’t usually travel much. Whether it’s back in our hometown of Portland, Ore., or in Beaumont, Texas — where we lived for nearly 11 years before moving to the Texas Panhandle — or here in Amarillo, we enjoy seeing the colors waving.

Once when we were first married, though, we did travel from the West Coast to the Great Lakes region to visit some members of my wife’s family.

Her Aunt Margaret and Uncle Joe lived in Kenosha, Wis., which sits on the western shore of Lake Michigan, just a bit north of Chicago.

We were there on the Fourth of July, 1973. It was hot and humid as the dickens.

But my memory of that community is stark, vivid — and indelible.

If you walked though neighborhoods, you saw row upon row of homes decked out in Fourth of July finery. Banners hung from front porches. Flags flew in what little breeze there was from windows. Streamers hung from trees. “Happy Birthday, USA” signs could be seen everywhere.

Man, oh man. I couldn’t get enough of it. I loved seeing these displays.

Sure, I get that we should always demonstrate our love of country in this manner. Maybe we should at our home, too … although we do display a red-white-blue banner in our dining room window from Memorial Day through Sept. 11 each year.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not a love-it-or-leave-it kind of guy. I acknowledge the many problems our nation has brought on itself. I will complain about them from time to time. It’s our right as citizens to do so.

We all should recognize, thought, that there’s much more good about America than that which is not so good.

It’s the good we celebrate today.

Bring on the pageantry!

national news

Who are the true-blue patriots?

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independence-day

Have you ever pondered whether the most patriotic Americans are those who are born here or those who chose to live here?

I have wondered it on occasion. I’m doing so right here and now.

You must understand where I’m coming from.

I am the grandson of immigrants. All four of my grandparents chose to move right after the turn of the 20th century from southeastern Europe to the United States of America to search for a better life.

All of them found that better life.

My dad’s parents were John and Katina Kanelis. My mom’s parents were George and Diamandoula Filipu. You know about my Yiayia and my Papou John. I’ve written about them both.

Indeed, my Yiayia was among the greatest Americans I’ve ever encountered. She died 38 years ago on the Fourth of July, 1978. Given her unabashed love for the United States of America, it seemed only fitting that she would depart this world on our nation’s birthday.

https://highplainsblogger.com/2014/07/remembering-a-great-american/

I remember all of them during this Independence Day weekend mostly because of who they were and the families they brought into this world. I also remember them because of the current political climate in the United States, which to my mind and heart has turned toxic as it relates to immigrants.

I know what you’re thinking: Hey, man, we’re talking about illegal immigrants, the folks who break U.S. law by coming here without the proper paperwork. And we’re talking about the scoundrels who come here to commit crimes.

True enough. This debate, though, usually has this curious way of morphing into a broader area to include all immigrants. There are those who call themselves “American patriots” who keep insisting that we’ve got enough immigrants in this country. They bristle at the idea that “foreigners” are pouring into the country and are upsetting what they believe is the “unique American culture.”

Actually, what historically has made our culture unique has been our open door. It’s been the principle of welcoming others to our shores.

These days we hear talk about building walls along our southern border. Or about banning people from overseas simply because they worship a certain faith.

What would my grandparents think about that? They would be appalled.

My memories of most of my grandparents are quite vivid; my maternal grandfather died when I was about a month old. All of them became great Americans. They loved their country with as much zeal and passion as anyone who ever was born here … of that I am quite certain.

I know my story isn’t unique. Other immigrants have come here to make their dreams come true. Their descendants are as proud of them as I am of my immigrant grandparents.

https://highplainsblogger.com/2014/10/he-was-a-great-man/

My grandparents didn’t achieve greatness in the way we too often measure it. They came here and followed the rules and the laws of their adopted home country.

They were true-blue American patriots.

I will honor them this weekend — and always.

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Remembering a great American

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This blog post is adapted from a column published July 5, 1998 in the Amarillo Globe-News.

“You know your grandmother died on the Fourth of July just to make sure we would remember her.”

So said my wife on July 4, 1978, the date of my grandmother’s death. She was right. I do remember that date. All of us in our family remember it.

And oh, do I remember this remarkable woman. My grandmother was an immigrant, but was as much of an American as any native-born U.S. citizen I’ve ever known. Her life, as well as that of her beloved husband, is a testament to the American Dream, the one in which people attain freedom and relative prosperity in a land they embraced as their own.

My grandmother’s life provides a cautionary tale to those who think we have too many “foreigners” living here, who forget this land was built by people just like my grandmother. Her life, while it didn’t produce great material wealth for her or her family, did produce a family whose members have fought for their country, who have lived honorably and prospered in the face of hardship, heartache and tragedy.

A slice of my grandmother’s story is worth sharing on the Fourth of July.

Her name was Diamondoula Panisoy Filipu. We called her “Yiayia,” which is Greek for “grandmother.” This endearment did not come just from the 10 grandchildren who knew her. Neighbor kids — and their parents — called her Yiayia. So did the grocery clerks down the street. Same for the mail carrier and the milkman.

Yiayia was proud of her Greek heritage and she touted it whenever possible. She was equally proud of being an American. She stood in line to vote at every election. I’ll repeat: Every election.

Yiayia was a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat, the kind we refer to in Texas as a “yellow dog Democrat.” She truly would vote for a yellow dog than vote for a Republican.

She prayed for Franklin Delano Roosevelt every Sunday in church. She displayed pictures of John F. Kennedy on a kitchen credenza. She voted in 1972 for George McGovern even though she could barely pronounce his name. I took her to vote that Election Day and asked, “Who did you vote for, Yiayia?” She looked at me sideways and said, “Nee-xohn,” laughed and then assured that of course she voted for the Democrat.

Returning to the “old country” never was an option for Yiayia. The old country was Turkey. She was an ethnic Greek whom the Turks expelled from the island of Marmara after World War I. The Greeks did the same to Turks living in Greece. Yiayia set foot in Greece one time: a brief stop in Athens en route from Istanbul to New York. She had no desire to return. Yiayia was “home” in the United States of America.

My “Papou,” George, died on Jan, 22, 1950 after visiting his month-old second-born grandson — me — at my parents’ home in Portland, Ore. He suffered a heart attack after pushing his car out of a snowdrift. Yiayia mourned him the rest of her life.

She kept on being proud of her standing as an American. She never took for granted the wonderful life she and Papou carved out for themselves and their family in this country.

Nor did she take for granted the political system that gave her a voice in the very government she adored. Yiayia and Papou were socialists at heart. They loved big, benevolent government. When given the chance to vote, she exercised that right with a gusto few of us know today.

Yiayia believed she may been more of an American those who were born here. She chose to come here, she would say. Native-born Americans were citizens by accident of birth; they made no sacrifice. They didn’t struggle with finding their way across a vast country with no knowledge of the language spoken there.

My uncle recalled this story about Yiayia’s journey to her new home in America: “When she got off the ship in New York, she had no idea how to get to Portland other than she had to take a train. She asked someone how to get to the train station. He told her where it was and asked her where she was going. She told him ‘Portland.’ He said it was only about an eight-hour ride.

“Five days later, she arrived in the other Portland, the one in Oregon.”

Intrepid? They should put Yiayia’s picture next to the word in the dictionary.

My wife may be right about Yiayia’s death. It is as if she planned it that way. It is easy to write about someone as unforgettable as her nearly four decades after her death. It also is easy to remember that she stood for so much of what we celebrate today.

Yiayia embodied unbridled love of God, family and her country.

I remember her as a great American.