Independence Day

"So, Independence Day is kind of a big deal, huh?" asked my Aussie friend.

"Why do you say that?" I replied.

"Well, I was just at the supermarket and a random lady said to me, 'happy Fourth of July.' And I realized that everyone seems to be into it. I just wonder why."

I did not explain to him that the lady was probably hitting on him, but I did try to explain that Fourth of July is a big deal in America in a no-big-deal way. It's not like Christmas where there is expectation or family obligation. It's not one of those fake holidays that we say is a holiday but is really just a religious ceremony run amok or, worse, a made up one that necessitates a costly brunch. It's the nation's birthday, a honest-to-goodness national holiday, one that every American can celebrate without thinking about displaced Indians or the segregated south, and a day that is usually given off to all but the cops, firemen, and medical professionals. And its a day to eat hot dogs, drink beer, and watch fireworks. Maybe hit the beach. For the most part, it's pretty mellow and you can celebrate it -- or not -- any way you choose. It's a nice holiday, stuck way out here in the summer. What's not to like about that?

He still didn't really understand why we celebrated, but allowed that perhaps it's because we fought for our independence rather than just waited around for Great Britain to get tired of us and hand it over around WWII (unlike some other colonies. Ahem). The reason for this discussion, of course, was because I wanted to do something in recognition of the Fourth and all my American friends already had some kind of plan in place. So, I called the Aussie. Seriously, what the hell would he be doing? And, as luck would have it, he was available. So I invited -- let's call him -- Hugh out to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

"The cemetery on the Fourth of July?" You ask. "Yes," I say. Every summer, the Hollywood Forever Cemetery opens up its gates on Saturday night and Los Angeleanos gather to watch movies under the stars. It's kinda like the drive-in without the cars or Byrant Park without the chairs. You're encouraged to get there early, bring a picnic, and listen to the DJs while getting drunk. Well, they don't encourage you to get drunk -- or high -- but some people do and are by time movie starts rolling at 9PM. But if you can deal with a hipster ratio of 30% and remember to bring a blanket, it can be a good night out. This past July 4th, they were screening Jaws. Yay! If you remember anything about Jaws beyond the line, "You're going to need a bigger boat", you may remember that the shark appears in the waters around Cape Cod over Fourth of July weekend, and the mayor and the chamber of commerce freak out that they are going to miss out on all the tourists' money if they close the beaches for the weekend. So, they don't. (Insert Jaws theme music here.) Hugh, being Aussie, was up for it (Aussies are generally up for anything. Amiable lot, those Australians). So, I packed up my blankets, stuck my Christmas champagne in the freezer, popped out to Gelsons for some fruit, cheese, and crackers, and changed into some jeans despite the ridiculous hot weather (L.A. is, at heart, still a desert and the temperature drops dramatically after the sun goes down).

Hugh had not been to the cemetery before and vaguely recalled hearing something about the movie-thing that was held there. I explained that I tend to opt out now. Over the three years I've lived in L.A., it's become more crowded, with less serious film viewers, and more serious hipsters who treat it like a night out at The Rocky Horror Picture Show. (I heard the screening of Pee Wee's Big Adventure was a virtual bake out.) But, since it was July 4th, I hypothesized that most people would be attending either the numerous public fireworks spectaculars or more numerous private beach/pool parties, and therefore, it was probably the best night to pop in to the movie. Plus, having lived near the cemetery, I knew it was superbly located to view a few fireworks spectaculars around town, notably the ones from Universal and Paramount Studios and whatever it is that happens over there in Pasadena. As far as I was concerned it was win-win.

We got there in plenty of time to bicker about parking and claim a spacious spot on the lawn. We weren't very close to the screen, and the audio was terrible, but we didn't have an obstructed view and that's got to count for something. We popped open the champagne, laid out the cheese and crackers and chatted about nothing for two hours. It was warm out. A beautiful California night. People were in good spirits, and the champagne relaxed me and made me happy. The DJs were spinning obscure 70s music that Hugh seemed to recognize, and I enjoyed people-watching until the dusk and I put my sweater on. At some point, the DJ put on a Jackson 5 song and the people cheered. So, he put on two more songs from two other MJ eras before it was almost dark. And when the sun went down, he played "Thriller." People cheered louder and sprang up, sponteanously bursting into dance. Other people raised their cell phones to take pictures, and I, well, I wished that there was a way to bottle the feeling that raised up around and inside of me, but instead all I could do was to tell myself "remember this."

Jaws, of course, was fantastic. It's one of those movies that I see something new in every time I watch it. (Dear House viewers: "That's some bad hat Harry" comes from Jaws. Who knew?) And while Roy Scheider desperately tried to convince the mayor to close the beaches, fireworks lit up the night sky around us.

I don't think there's a way to explain to foreigners why Americans like the Fourth of July. (I'm not even sure that we all do.) But what I can say about it is that, for the most part, most of us like to do something on the Fourth. However, there is no "right way" to celebrate the holiday (like Thanksgiving or Christmas) and there's no rule about who you're supposed to spend it with (hello, Mother's Day). Independence Day is a true holiday from all the rules that govern our lives. It's right there in the title. And however you choose to celebrate it -- or not -- at the end of the day, there will be fireworks. What's not to like about that?