Uncorked: Independent on Independence Day

The country of my birth celebrated its 250th birthday on 4 July. In the country where I live, it was just another Saturday – or Sunday, if factoring the International Date Line.

Americans mark Independence Day with two traditions: the so-called national pastime of baseball and the actual national pastime of cookouts. Hot dogs are so popular, a maker of franks holds a contest to see who can eat the most, buns and all.

Here, I got invited to watch the national pastime of New Zealand over a supper of sausages and sauerkraut. I’m still figuring out rugby … though, somehow, I placed 13th in the tipping competition. Fortunately, cricket wasn’t on; I find that game even more of a mystery.

Back to 4 July, aka July 4th or the Fourth of July. I received a kind text from John van Delft, a fellow Blenheim Rotarian, at the top of the morning.

“Hi, Evan and Amy,” John’s message began. “Wishing you a happy 250th 4th July. I hope you managed to get a turkey. Cheers — John and Mary.”

Well, the patriotic holiday has a measure of Thanksgiving, and maybe some folks grill turkey dogs. Regardless, it’s the thought that counts!

Kiwis have distinct impressions of the States. Friday evening at the Blenheim Club, I conversed with a couple. Like everyone I meet, they accept Americans graciously. They expressed how they judge us not on our country’s actions but on our own – or, to paraphrase American civil rights champion Martin Luther King, not by the colours of our flag but the content of our character.

Saturday, Amy and I spent our most festive hour at Sheps Park, where Tiernan rolled in the grass, chased after his ball and socialised with other dogs as we chatted with their owners.

Freedom and liberty? Indeed. No fireworks needed.

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