Steve Stricker

By Steve Stricker

Columnist

 

With all the craziness going on around us – Russia, Ukraine, Israel, Palestine, Iran, Nigeria, et. al., our Freedom in America should be enjoyed, but never, ever, taken for granted. 

July 4th, Independence Day, is this Thursday.  Can you think of a better place to celebrate this American Holiday than right here in Oxford?  We not only live in a wonderful country, but we also live in a town that could easily be “The” symbol to all persons for what America is about–small town USA, freedom, freedom to worship, education, a beautiful, quality, environment for all persons to live a safe, quaint, slow way of life, away from the bustling, hurrying world.  A place where children can grow to young adults, adults to a mellow age, and a swell place to retreat.  A place where one can move slowly, have time to think, hear oneself think, hear birds sing, to reflect on this good life that God has allowed us – with the extra special addition of the University of Mississippi, Ole Miss and SEC sports. 

Growing up in another quaint American town, Charleston, Missouri, my family would drive out to the Country Club and Golf Course, east edge of town on July 4th where there would be fireworks just after dark.  Cars, with people sitting on them lined the road, children ran around while all “kids” anxiously awaited the colorful, joyful and exciting explosions honoring our Declaration of Independence by the Congress of the Thirteen United States of America, on the 4th of July 1776, by which they formally declared that these colonies were free and independent States, not subject to the government of Great Britain.  Not sure many people gathered to watch fireworks were thinking about being independent from England and all that, but were simply celebrating and enjoying a federal, legal holiday declared by Congress in 1941.    

July 4th thoughts – first, freedom, family, friends, outings, hot, steamy, sun lit, humid days, the Square, American flags waving from people’s houses along beautiful, quiet, tree-lined streets, banners strewn through railings, straw hats, political speeches, parades, bands, lemonade, ice cream socials, church, crowds, swimming, boating, popping firecrackers with my cousins, hotdogs, real dogs, (cats) homemade ice cream, apple pie, apple sauce from Grandpa’s farm June apples, baseball, and me and Gert snapping peas, beans.  

I also think about the song by Don McLean, “Bye, Bye Miss American Pie…!”  That song just represents July 4th and summer to me.  Charleston, Missouri is located a few miles from the Mississippi River in the Bootheel of Missouri. River levees are abundant, and one of my favorite drives is north of Charleston on a narrow, winding, two-lane asphalt road, past my grandpa’s farm, that weaves in and out and around crops planted in some of the richest farmland in the world. The soil is called “Gumbo” and is much gooier and thicker than the soup and clings to things, especially hunting boots when walking in it, like the strongest glue ever made!  The road winds by the levee with the mighty Mississippi just on the other side, protecting crops from this “contained” River in times of flood. 

Even though McLean’s American Pie song came out on his album by that name in 1971, it still makes me think of my 1957 Chevrolet Belair coupe, canyon coral (pink) on the bottom, white top, with silver and black interior.  It had an automatic transmission with Six Cylinder engine and was slow as a fast-walking dog, but with its unique paint and wide white walls, it was sharp!   

The ’57 passed down to me the summer of my junior year in high school from my three older sisters was my first car and I loved it, as did my friends.  The car originated from Michigan and although it looked great, winters with salted streets had taken its toll and were slowly rusting from the inside out.  I drove the ‘57 through my freshman year in college when I traded it for a beautiful, white, ‘64 Chevy Super Sport with a blue interior, 327 Engine.  Great car that I sold before going to Vietnam knowing I’d never make it home again. 

And I think of St. Henry’s, the little Catholic school across the street from our house where I attended K-12, taught by Ursuline nuns and priests, and the beautiful church on the corner.  

However, my life is here in “Camelot” wonderful Oxford now, thankfully forever home.  “So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie, Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry, Ane them good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye Singin’, This’ll be the day that I die, This’ll be the day that I die.”  God Bless America. PEACE OUT – Steve