Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Tag Archives: Independence Day


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BANG!

As far back as I can remember, July never promised to stay. But without fail, each year we banged it in with a welcome so loud, thinking this time, just maybe, it would. 

It was the Schulz brothers at the bottom of the gravel road that introduced us to the firecracker. They didn’t bother to wait for the fourth. By July first, they were armed and ready. Pockets filled with matches, they wandered VanDyke road to make sure its young inhabitants were awakened to the magic of summer. Feet perched bare and tentative, I watched as they pulled the firecrackers from their tattered jeans. My toes curled in as they lit the matches. I held my breath, as they put one to the other. BANG! I jumped back! BANG! BANG! It screamed the warning – summer was here! BANG! BANG! BANG! Do not miss out, they cried! The bangs got closer and louder and skipped in the gravel. And I cheered and vowed to not miss a day!

Without my knowledge or permission, July has once again raced through its month of days. I hear the bangs of the 31st at my heels, and know I can’t let this moment pass, not one moment, without a celebration.

Sleeveless I sit beside the open window and still believe my summer will never end. I can feel it in my heart! Bang! – it beats against my suntanned chest! Bang! Bang! I do believe! BANG! BANG! — I shout the Schulz warning, uncurl my toes, and skip in the gravel of my endless day!

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Giving proof.

I don’t think I owned a watch until I was in highschool, so it was impossible to judge the hour’s wait after eating and before entering the lake. I began turning my mother’s wrist every few minutes to view the Timex. She shook me off like the pest I was being. Ten minutes. 15 minutes. “Oh for heaven’s sake, you’re lit up like the Fourth of July!” She motioned me to go in already, knowing the risk of me imploding on land was greater than cramping in the water. 

I entered the water each time as if it were my first. Every splash released my “rocket’s red glare,” my “bombs bursting in air!” Of course it was never “through the night” but it was my proof, proof that everything was possible, exciting, uncontainable! 

I didn’t have the words for it then, but this unfettered joy was my America. I don’t ever want to lose that spirit. I don’t want us as a nation to ever lose it. The risk of us imploding perhaps is stronger than it has ever been. But we are still free. We are still young, and ever hopeful. 

I saw this young girl at City Park in Alexandria, Minnesota. I had to paint her. She lives on the canvas. She lives in my heart. This is who I am. Who we are!

Hope races me into the deep end of this Independence Day and I raise my hands in all the promise of the joy that can, should, and I pray, will ever remain. Happy Fourth of July! 

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When there’s no parade.


There was a small piece of this wood left in the scrap pile. I could have just left it there. Who would know? Who would care? I guess the answer is me. I cut it into the largest four lengths possible (which wasn’t very big). There was a hole in one of the lengths. I had to use it, or there wouldn’t be enough wood to complete the tiny frame. I squared it up. Pounded in the old nails I pulled from another piece of wood. Sanded. And sanded some more. I cut a small piece of wood from an old dismantled armoire to fit the opening. The whole thing was about 6″ x 5″, fitting into the palm of my hand. I stained the frame. Gessoed the board. Painted a pear in charcoal. Secured it to the frame. Covered the back in paper. And attached my card. But what to do about the hole? It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. I thought it added something, but still, it called out, like “use me – this could be really special.” So I found some weathered string, and attached the smallest card. Front – Still. Life. Inside – Never perfect. Always original. And it was complete. For me, a treasure. Right there in the palm of my hand.


Today is the Fourth of July. For Americans, that’s something special. Independence Day. Living in France, it could easily pass as just another day. I could just forget about it. Who would know? Who would care? I guess the answer is me. There will be no parade, and no fireworks. But the songs we marched to in band play over in my head. The kids waving flags, and jumping into the lake way too soon after eating too many hotdogs from the barbecue – these thoughts make me smile. They are treasures that fit into the palm of my heart, and I choose to care. Because that’s the freedom we were given, isn’t it? The freedom to choose what matters. The freedom to take something and make the best of it. To see not the flaws, but the beauty. The freedom to love, even the worst of us. And to celebrate all, wherever we are!


As I type the words, the sparklers are bursting from inside. To celebrate here is not perfect, but it is original! And it feels so good, so magical, just to care!!!!! Happy Fourth of July!

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