On July Fourth Adele and I took what I call a micro-vacation.  She had earned a free night at a Marriott Inn so we signed up for one night in downtown Minneapolis.  We drove into town at about 2:00 pm and walked for two hours through Nicollet and Boom Islands.  Then we stopped at a little restaurant on Main Street a proposed to have something light to eat.  We got lucky; we bumped into acquaintances who asked us to join them.  We didn't know them very well.  Kari is the current chair of Theater Mu, which was Adele's position there for six years so they had a lot to talk about.  She was there with her husband Tom.  Both are Korean, she about 45 and he about 55.  We had that to discuss too.  And both of them were adopted, I think by Caucasian families.  It was very pleasant to talk with people who recognized and laughed about some of the passages adopters and adoptees have.  Then we found places to watch the fireworks from.  Insofar as we expected 75,000 people to arrive on the south bank of the Mississippi to join us, we got there early and had about two hours to spend reading and consuming too many mini-donuts.

As with just about everything else in my life, joy mixes with sadness.  There is nothing particularly joyful about the Fourth as a holiday, but fireworks are endlessly entertaining, but this holiday always reminds me of the death of my father.  This July Third was the fiftieth anniversary of his passing.  The sadness has long turned to wistfulness, but I pity him for how much of life he missed.