July Fourth memories

On July 4th, 1995, I was with my friend Walter on a cruise up the Rhine River in Europe, from Nijmegen to Basel. The spires on the left are those of the Cologne Cathedral. (Don Dale photo, 1995)

I must have spent a week in 1995 searching Richmond malls for a shirt with an American flag on it. I was surprised at how hard the task turned out to be.

I finally found one, a designer T-shirt with a tiny flag on the pocket, at Hechts at Regency. A salesman found it for me in the stockroom. It was outrageously expensive for a T-shirt.

But I needed it.

My friend Walter and I had planned a trip to Europe -- Amsterdam for a few days, then a cruise up the Rhine River from nearby Nijmegen, Holland, to Basel, Switzerland, and then a leisurely drive through the Black Forest and on back to Amsterdam.

We knew that we'd be on a German cruise ship, the Britannia, on July 4th, and I wanted to wear a shirt with Old Glory on it.

That was my fourth celebration of July 4th in another country. I had spent Independence Day in Germany in 1967, '68 and '69 while in the U.S. Air Force.

There's something about being in a foreign country on the day we celebrate independence, something that makes me feel the holiday more keenly, something that makes me feel somehow more "American."

At Bitburg and Spangdahlem air bases, where I lived for three years, the celebrations were almost over the top. Our German neighbors were all invited to celebrate Independence Day on base with us -- with free hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob, baked beans, potato salad, ice cream, live music, games and -- as dusk fell -- spectacular fireworks.

(Two things about our German neighbors at those celebrations stand out in my memory. They loved -- absolutely loved! -- the American ice cream because the butterfat content was so high. But ... they were very leery of the corn on the cob. Corn, to these mostly rural people, was a food for livestock. Once they tasted corn on the cob drenched in melted butter and salt, however, they changed their minds. I understand that the German attitude towards corn on the cob has changed significantly since then.)

Almost thirty years later, Walter and I, as Americans, were a distinct minority on board the Britannia. But our Independence Day had not been forgotten by the ship's German social director. We awoke to find a large "Happy July 4th" banner above the staircase up to the ship's main deck. The Germans and the French, who dominated the ship's passenger manifest, greeted us all day long with exclamations of "Happy July 4th." It was actually quite touching.

For lunch, we asked our waiter if he could arrange for the chef to make us each a cheeseburger. It wasn't the best burger I've ever eaten, but we appreciated the chef's effort. Cheeseburgers, after all, were nowhere to be found on most European menus.

I proudly wore my shirt with the tiny American flag on it for the whole day.

I've celebrated July 4th at backyard cookouts at my parents' house, at picnics with friends at Dogwood Dell, at pot-luck block parties with neighbors, grilling with friends on my own deck (you can see the fireworks at The Diamond from my front porch), and with family at my nephew's place on the Rappahannock River.

But those four Independence Days abroad brought out an extra touch of pride and patriotism in me. Those celebrations are among my favorite memories.

I still have that white designer T-shirt with the tiny flag on the pocket. It's a bit faded, but I still make sure I wear it at some point each July 4th.