Fours on the Fourth
Good things come from an even number
Check in
Fireworks tonight
Today is Independence Day, July 4. A big anniversary: 250 years since the signing of our foundational document, the Declaration of Independence, kicked up a dust with the English Crown. This signing led swiftly to the War of Independence and the creation of our republic.
The strength of that republic may be weaker at the present moment than it has ever been in our lifetimes.
“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure,” wrote Abraham Lincoln in the Gettysburg Address. Our present situation is, at least metaphorically, a civil war, and no less grave than in Lincoln’s time.
I remember 1976, already 50 years ago! I was 26 that year. In those 50 years I changed, and my country changed. What seemed sure and clear then (although it never really was) is muddied and sullied now.
I may not feel like fireworks, but I still wish a happy anniversary to my country.
We are created equal. Let’s celebrate the document that tells us so—even if it was written by and for prosperous white male landowners.
Four by four
In memory of the Fourth, here are some things that come in fours:
Earth, air, water, fire
East, north, south, west
Head, heart, hands and health (4-H)
Winter, spring, summer, fall
00, 15, 30, 45
Dogwood blossoms
And hydrangeas
Matthew, Mark, Luke, John
Bach, Beethoven, Brahms and Dylan
Conquest, war, famine, death
Four-leaf clovers
Eenie, meeanie, miny, mo
Four Weddings and a Funeral. Few movies with “four” in the title are memorable.
Fat, sugar, alcohol, candy corn (the four food groups)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme
Sweet, salty, bitter, sour (and now umami)
Four in one
I admire the old-school utility of this folding ruler, even though the connections are corroded and it’s broken off at one end.
What do I know?
I can count on my toes. I think there may be 10. Dandelions will grow back no matter what you do. Sometimes there’s a full moon, but where in the sky? Tide pools are precious, likewise waterfalls. Sun, moon and stars, rivers and roads. Angling or circling, always running true. Great ideas matter until their time runs out. I hate cilantro, give me ginger instead. Uncover the crystals, iron the creases Don’t sweat or swear in my nicely groomed bed. Some things I don’t know, how clouds move and muster, How hot days can be cloudy, why sugar is sweet. I’ve lived long and happy not knowing most things, Just what’s around me, the salve of my senses. I don’t know what comes in the very next moment. Not knowing, It’s perfect. Snuff the candle, Sleep again.
Stage 4
Liz Scott, Ph.D., explores her fascination with death in the Doom with a View Substack. I have her to thank for recommending a movie about one man’s dying. “André Is an Idiot,” directed by Tony Benna, is streaming on Netflix.
André Ricciardi, a San Francisco ad man, artist and bon vivant with big hair and a loving family, put off having his “turning 50” colonoscopy until it was too late. The diagnosis was colon cancer, Stage 4.
The movie is about André’s subsequent journey through chemo, radiation and realization. The film is funny and poignant, never lugubrious, balancing heartbreak with some clever animation, like little fuzzy critters created from the hair he shed in chemo.
We’re sorry for André’s situation, but we admire his guts and panache and his indomitable spirit. “André Is an Idiot” is an portrait of a man facing death and going out in glory.
July
My goal, for July, stated last December, is “Wisdom from water.” We entered the zodiac sign of Cancer at the solstice, June 21. The longest day of 2026 is already in the rear view mirror, and we’re headed inexorably through the time when light diminishes. Fading is a powerful metaphor.
Cancer is a water sign, a sign of caring, assuaging, soothing. A time when we place our cool hand on the heated forehead of the world and murmur, “Hush now. Things will be all right. It’s okay.”
But it’s not okay and will not be okay.
But for now it’s July, the time of Cancer and then Leo. The days are still immeasurably long, the trees lush, the rabbits fat, fatter than the squirrels. People hold hands as they walk down the street, murmuring to each other, comfortable in companionship.
Check out
Have an ICE day
Folks from various Quaker meetings line South Macadam Avenue in Portland on Monday mornings, waving flags and banners outside the ICE detention facility. The Tesla dealership is right next door. A coincidence?
Many passing motorists honked and waved back as we waved at them. I don’t remember any Teslas honking.
Time and poetry
Finding time
I can still thread a needle, Face down a squirrel Drink tea without sugar Sit in the sunshine Liberate spiders String words like beads And maybe find time To love my neighbor Or even On a good day Read a book.
Until next week
Once again, thank you for reading. Thank you for pushing the “like heart” and for commenting. If you have time, take a walk through the archives. There are upwards of 200 earlier posts, all unique, each of them with surprises waiting just for you.
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Have a wondrous week and enjoy the fireworks.
Love,
Fran
—30—
Really loved this one ❤️🇺🇸
wonderful as always but "What do I know" was extra-special