With apologies to “Big Al,” July 4 is not national fireworks day. Sure, we love fireworks. Whether in the harbor, at the beach, or in our backyards, we all love the sparklers, firecrackers, bottle rockets and the rest of ”Big Al’s” flashy inventory.

We love barbecues, hot dogs, watermelon, cakes and pudding, relatives and friends, and the rest of the usual suspects. They all help us celebrate our 247th Birthday.

Now, I am not going to begin a rant on the reasons we cut the leash that held us to the bosom of England. They taught us about that in school, that is, if you were awake when they talked about John and Sam Adams, George Washington and King George III.

They taught me a very simplified version of a complex geopolitical struggle waged between France, England and Spain and how we benefited from the fallout of those European machinations. Thank you to Ben Franklin for all you did to grease, cajole and charm the French into opening the door to their treasury and lending us a fleet and arms to help George Washington & Co. hang on and avoid the mighty British Army.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the Brits overestimated their might and underestimated General George W. & Co. But that is another story for another time.

When I was a kid, and some days it seems that that was a thousand years ago, BC (Before Cell Phones or Before Computers, take your pick), I recall my dad, my brother and me grabbing a wagon and walking about a mile or two to an ice house. Dad bought a large block of ice, dropped it in the wagon, covered it with an old blanket, and we pulled her back home.

He slipped that block of ice into a big round galvanized water-filled washtub that had become the temporary home of a fat watermelon. Then we helped him shove the sloshing tub into the shade cast by a large wild cherry tree not far from a rustic picnic table.

Next on the to-do list was dessert, and he would let us help him crank the old wooden ice cream freezer, although truth be told, he did most of the work.

It was time to cook, and he doused a charcoal grill with a magic potion, pitched a kitchen match into it, and “Phooom!” Caution. Do not do this at home or anywhere else. It can be very, very dangerous.

After we ate too much and were squirted with a hose rolled out to clean our greasy hands, we told the grownups it was time for ice cream and watermelon. But Dad hit the pause button. He pulled out a cardboard tube that contained a yellowed version of the Declaration of Independence. And he had my brother and me read from it. After we struggled with old-time penmanship, he took over.

And he began reading the words written 247 years ago by Thomas Jefferson with help from Ben Franklin and John Adams. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

And then he went on to read much of the document outlining the grievances the colonists had with the Brits, and why they should be free from the yoke of the government across the seas. Of course, he didn’t mention that many of those grievances were spurred on by the hope the colonists would help the British Parliament fill the crown's bank account.

I later learned they were not the first legislative body to enact grand ideas and programs with the expectation that someone else would foot the bill.

Dad’s idea was to teach us we were celebrating something that was even more important than ice-cold watermelon and homemade ice cream, although, at the time, I suspect there was nothing more important to my brother J.C. and me than ice-cold watermelon and homemade ice cream.

This year, like last year and, hopefully, far into the future, we will once again celebrate our nation’s birthday. We will parade, cheer, and applaud bands and fireworks. We will even endure speeches by well-meaning political leaders who seem to spin Jefferson’s words to fit their political agenda.

But his words live on, enshrined in our daily lives, enabling ordinary citizens to enjoy the fruits of our civilization. So go to “Big Al's” fireworks store in Wiscasset. Pick out a rocket or two and carefully (and I mean carefully) bring them home and light them off. Eat the barbecue, watermelon and ice cream, and hug your neighbors, friends and relatives.

It is July 4. It is our birthday. It is time for joy.