Spent Independence Day—or ‘Murica Day to you insufferable millennials—at an undisclosed location in the Idaho Panhandle, enjoying a suitably proportionate combination of food, family, and fireworks to mark our country’s 240th birthday. (There was patriotic music as well, but that didn’t quite fit into my alliterative scheme. So we’ll just add “festivities” to the mix and call it good.)
Best part of the day? Hard to choose, really. After all, there was pulled pork and a homemade cannon. But if I had to pick, it’d definitely be the framed photograph of Ronald Reagan on the nightstand in our hosts’ master suite. Darn near brought a tear to my eye.
Happy birthday, America.
