Happy 4th of July!

I almost forgot that today was the 4th of July. Without adolescents igniting fireworks around my neighborhood in Bishkek days in advance of the 4th like they do in the U.S. and without my television advertising 4th of July blowout super sales for products like mattresses and RVs, I hadn't remembered that Independence Day was here.

When living abroad, I really haven't celebrated the holidays of my culture. For example, when teaching in Japan, December 25th was just another working day like any other. It's the same for me this year with Independence Day.  I spent it driving across Kazakhstan to the city of Shymkent on a work-related trip. As far as I know, Shymkent isn't putting on a fireworks display this evening, nor have I found any picnics or outdoor barbecues.

But it really isn't the lack of festivities in Shymkent that has me discouraged about celebrating my nation's birthday.  I think Independence Day isn't resonating with me this year, because of what's currently happening in the U.S.  The Donald Trump phenomenon has taken any excitement I might have had for celebration and turned it into naked fear of what my country has become.

As I think about Donald Trump, I realize he reminds me of one of the gigantic balloons from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, except in my imagination the Trump Balloon, a giant replica of the man including a flopping mop of orangish hair on top, is ten times the size of any balloon previously constructed--it's Huuuge!  To make matters worse the Trump Balloon, filled with noxious gas, has become unmoored and is hurtling erratically across the sky.  Roughly half the people in America are rushing toward the Trump Balloon trying to grab hold of the ropes dangling from the Balloon that had unsuccessfully kept it tethered to the ground.  They somehow think that if they manage to take hold of the giant Trump airship by grasping one of the ropes, they will be transported to the land of "America Great Again," which is located, I've been told, somewhere between Oz and Shangri-La.

The other half of the country, myself included, see the untethered Trump Zeppelin spinning madly across the American sky and are running for our lives in the opposite direction, visions of past explosions of massive gas-bags like the Hindenburg engraved in our memories.  We don't wish to be consumed by the fiery inferno and are heading for any shelter we can find. A bit unmoored myself, I ended up finding sanctuary 15,000 kilometers from the potential blast zone.  But somehow, I worry that none of us will be safe if the Trump Zeppelin becomes the Ship of State and catapults itself into a fiery cataclysm. 

That's why I'm not celebrating the 4th of July in Shymkent. Instead I am sitting outside my hotel on a patio, gazing up at the empty night sky, hoping that the day will never come when we will all have to be scanning the heavens for unstable zeppelins on a course to crash and burn on top of us.  In lieu of celebration may I wish you a Happy 4th and may we all figure out what contributions each of us can make toward keeping the skies safe and uncluttered.