The 4th of July is one of our family’s favorite holidays. There is the metaphorical “independence” piece for both our nation’s separation from England in addition to tradition, pomp, and circumstance for our tiny, small-town parade. My husband Geoff, in addition to our children, love being part of the parade as much as I love NOT being a part of the parade. When they were little, it was fun to strap them into their car seats, load them up with sunblock, cold washcloths, and popsicles and send them off with their dad in his 1973 Caprice convertible with hand controls. This year, they convinced a friend to drive them in an old, off-road vehicle called a Pinzgauer so they could play the National Anthem with actual instruments in the back. Geoff rode in the passenger seat, and, despite a torrential downpour (because it’s mostly rained this summer here in the northeast), I continued my own tradition of watching the parade with a friend.
Another element of independence is the development of life skills. This summer, we inherited some old wood of varying shapes and sizes, so Geoff has taken it upon himself to teach the children how to build wooden boxes. The ones they are building now will be used for future lettuce growing, but our daughter put all of the candy in hers that she would then throw out to parade watchers. This is how we get rid of whatever Halloween candy is left over from the previous year. Genius, I know. Terrible also that we still have Halloween candy laying around almost a year later. No judgment please.
But the other part of Independence Day, that is not lost on any of us in the adaptive universe, is the celebration of new technology and advancements which allow everyone in our community to be as independent as possible. Independence means different things for different people, but there are many times when Geoff feels situationally disabled. This is my term to describe those moments when mobility challenges make him feel trapped when he is ordinarily very independent.