July is arguably the hottest month of the year. On a merciful day, the air was dry and hot. The sun beat high in the sky, blistering and unforgiving. But today, the sun played peek -a -boo, hiding behind the thick gray clouds that seemed to beg for release. The air was thick, moist, and extremely uncomfortable. The thud of my shoes on the concrete sidewalk beneath me seemed to grow louder with every step. In a lapse of judgment, I decided to go on a quick jog before the Fourth of July celebration-- (celebration meaning pending disaster) at my aunt’s house, a big mistake. Blood pounded in my ears, and my pace became more strident with every beat of my heart as I rounded the corner and reached my street. At long last, I ambled into my mother’s bright kitchen, feeling that I might collapse if I exerted too much effort. She laughed loudly when she saw me standing in the doorway and pulled a chair away from her oversized kitchen table, signaling me to take a seat. I collapsed immediately, smiling gratefully as she got a bottle of water out of the fridge and tossed it lightly to me. “Hot out there?” she asked, returning to the casserole I assumed she would be taking to the barbeque. I laughed weakly, “It’s not really hot…just muggy and very humid. Hopefully, it won’t mess up the fireworks tonight.” She nodded absentmindedly. I sighed and heaved myself out of the chair, forcing my legs to carry me forward. With my mother and her casserole behind me, I decided it was time to get ready for the promising afternoon ahead of me. After a long hot shower, which mercifully loosened my strained muscles, I curled my long brown hair and skillfully made up my face. I ... ... middle of paper ... ...ler air. The sun was setting; the sky patched with beautiful pinks, oranges, purples, and deep blues. I smiled to myself, feeling a sense of calm settle over me. I walked back inside and changed clothes, hoping that after such a hectic day everything else would go smoothly. I was wrong. After burning myself several times with sparklers, I gave up on the whole institution. I wish I could say the same for my uncle. After successfully breaking a window with a screaming angel and having to run inside to make sure there was minimal damage, my aunt seized the fireworks, and cut short the celebration in fear for her home’s well being. I laughed to myself, glad that the day had ended without any serious injury and that everyone had fun. Regardless of the intolerant sun, the humid air, flaming gas cans and broken windows, it was a lovely day.
In both “The Fourth of July” and “Black Men and Public Space” the narrators did one very important thing; they expressed how the encounter made the narrator feel. This is crucial because it almost allows the reader to share the feeling of helplessness that was felt. In “The Fourth of July”, Lorde explained how she truly did not understand why the family was treated differently. She tells of her parents’ fruitless effort to shield their children from the harsh realities of Jim Crow by planning out virtually the whole trip. The highlight of the story is when the narrator expresses both anger and confusion at the fact that her family was denied seated service at an ice cream parlor because they were black.
Frederick Douglass's "Fourth of July" Speech is the most famous speech delivered by the abolitionist and civil rights advocate Frederick Douglass. It attracted a crowd of between five hundred and six hundred. Douglass’s speech to the slaves on the Fourth of July served to show the slaves that there is nothing for them to celebrate. They were not free and the independence that the rest of the country celebrated did not apply to them.
When I was younger, the Fourth of July was a time where the family came from out of town to cook, converse, and watch fireworks. It meant for me a day that you could purchase electronics for cheap via 'Fourth of July ' sales. I only understood the superficial definition, and could only take the holiday at face value. It did not have any meaning to me until I grew older. As I grew older I began to realize one thing, that most people who celebrate this holiday do not understand the meaning behind it. The Fourth of July has turned into a commercial holiday that advertises excessive drinking, reckless behavior and it has completely disregarded the idea of what the Fourth of July actually is, a celebration of our independence from, Britain, the
It was not particularly hot that Fourth of July many years ago, but looking back it was the heat that impressed itself upon me the most. The true heat was much more than the temperature. The true heat that I felt was from the long, winding, awe-inspiring chase that the cops gave my friends and me.
Get the kids involved in the making of these Patriotic Strawberries that just screams red, white and blue goodness!
"Mom, I'm so glad that you're awake." Becca cried, she maneuvered around her mother's I.V's wrapping her arms around her. Becca pulled back from her mother, she pulled out the chair under the desk and took a seat then placed her hands over her mom's.
Many young children went to the local fair ground. The wagons, horses, tall trees and the sunshine… How magnificent! It was truly a magical day. We wandered about listening to the speeches, as it slowly began to get darker, and darker. All the small children began the grow drowsy, so their parents went back home. My favourite part of the entire day was the fireworks of course! As darkness took over the sky, the wonderful display began, lighting up the sky with it’s beautiful colours. Soon it was sadly
The 4th of July is supposed to be an extremely fun, and patriotic time as an American holiday. However, I found it hard at the time to believe that this year’s 4th of July was going to be as joyful as the ones that have preceded it, especially with the events that have recently happened. Although our grandpa’s health had been steadily declining over the past few years, we certainly did not expect his health to suddenly dive down drastically, forcing our family and relatives to take him to the hospital. The reasons why our grandpa’s health had skydived wasn’t exactly pinpointed, but it was safe to presume that it was a combination due to old age, and a myriad of other health problems common in the elderly. It was an agonizing sight for my family, and even more so for my parents, to see that their father was in the condition that he was in at the time. The sounds of sobbing and crying filled the room, along with the beeps of medical equipment; the taste of our own tears also find its way into our minds, and effectively, our tongues. As we lamented the state of health our grandfather was in, my family and I closed in and hugged him tightly, and even being in an almost paralyzed state, we could see him tearing up, which would penetrate my mind, and leave a mark in my memory for a long time to come.
Nausea and fear flooded my veins, churning my stomach into a bubbling pot of anxiety. Heat spread across my face surely turning it a bright noticeable shade of red. Thick wads of saliva ran down my throat. Sweat traced its way down the back of my neck. The smells of coffee and sandwiches overwhelmed my senses. My eyes darted around the table from one parent to the next. Bright white light illuminated the street outside the window making the three people around me look like nothing more than black shadows. Dad, who sat across from me, cleared his throat. He studied me with a sense of pride, he looked more like he was glowing, but his gaze shifted to my mom, my real mom, and that look got a little more hostile.
She returned to the couch and picked her phone up off the carpet. It was mid-afternoon. It was also Thursday. She had missed her only two classes for that day. She also had about thirty unread text messages. She didn't both to check any of them as she remembered why she had been drinking. She put her phone down and put both hands to her face. A surge of emotions swelled within her, more unpleasant than the bile had been earlier. She laid back down on the couch and resolved not to get up again for anything. Then her stomach grumbled.
I wake up to the sun shining through the window and the faint laughter from my family downstairs. It's the first day of our annual trip to Rhode Island. I lie in bed for a few moments and think about one thing. Rhode Island. I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than here. I glance at the clock and it is only eight in the morning, but everybody is already up, enjoying breakfast, and getting ready to head to the beach. It's not supposed to rain until later in the day, so hopefully we can enjoy our day at the beach before it rains. I eventually make my way out of bed and tiptoe across the frigid wood floors and join my family downstairs. Everybody is up except my brother, Thomas.
"Good job, girls. Now, was that too hard?" Yes, it was. "Go clean yourselves for dinner." Lola smiled.
It was not long after the sun set that the city’s organizers of the festival announced the event that everybody had been waiting for. All the younger kids got really excited and ran as far up as they could, the crowd started to settle, and each and everyone of us prepared our necks looking towards the eastern end. Soon loud music began and the fireworks began to soar through the sky! People were in “oooohs” and “ahhhs” every time as soon as rocket would go up and explode in front of a dark canvas, the night sky. The fireworks were in sync with the music and produced a plethora of colorful designs that lit the sky. Although the whole event lasted under 15 minutes, it was by far one of the most wonderful experiences to any party. People let out a sigh once the fireworks display was over and a thunderous applause
“Stay close to me, ok?” my mom warned as I hesitantly followed my family as we descended the stairs towards the subway. This was a new experience for me, the only subway I had ever been in was the sandwich shop. I was already overwhelmed by the noises and smells. The smell was like a full soccer team had just won their championship and were piled into their mom’s vans to go for ice cream, the noise as if a thousand babies screamed at once. My heart felt like it was racing in my chest as I flicked my fingers against my leg. The environment made me extremely nervous. My mother, noticing this, stopped and attempted to reassure me, adjusting her firm grip on my sweaty hand. As my family and I weaved our way through the giant masses of
Too late. I could already hear my mothers graceful footsteps ascend the stairs. She carefully opened the door that entered my kitchen, and I flung myself into her arms. My mother yelped with shock and a hint of exhaustion, “Meggie honey, Mommy is very tired. Please be a little more careful next time.”