we all recall a 4th of July not so long ago

"I remember the 1976, Bicenntenial 4th of July as particulary poignant; when mama brought a cake out to the patio for desert, someone (Vera Postovsky? Alex Jadan?) spontaneously started singing "Happy Birthday" and everyone joined in. By the time they got to "Happy Birthday dear America", this group of immigrants, each with their own story, there wasn't a dry eye among any of us (of course, the vodka probably helped)"  - my sister Ludmilla 

"I think it was Marcel Sedletzky who started the singing. The cake was covered with whipped cream, blueberries and strawberries spelling out "US". He sang, and all joined in, "Happy birthday to us, Happy birthday to us, Happy birthday dear America, Happy birthday to us." Almost everyone there was an immigrant.

I also remember the sunny morning of that Bicentennial 4th of July. Mama and I were up first, washing dishes from the anniversary celebration of the night before (their 27th), inexplicably joyful and singing every corny patriotic song we could think of (including "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" from "Oklahoma!"). Drinking instant coffee."

 - my sister Nina

All my siblings remember that joyous 4th with other added details! Climbing up on the roof to "spy" on those tipsy Russkies and later watch the fireworks in the bay from up there. Everyone was happy. Even Chewpee the dog got a hot-dog he stole off the grill.

Comments

[mc]

I miss those times dearly, those parties, especially those hunting/fishing trips. When I was young I took it for granted not anymore. I almost feel like joining the Russian club, but it just won't be the same. I did have my mom and chocha Irina at my house on the 3rd! Makes me cry.

[Tina]

What wonderful memories!

I love our patriotic songs and have several CDs, play them in the car and sing along.

[MoscowMom]

That's a great post... I'll never forget the Thanksgiving I spent during in college at the home of a friend -- in Brooklyn, with all of her Russian Jewish family... For the first time the holiday really seemed filled with THANKS. It had taken decades for their whole family to make it to America, and the uncle next to me raised the most heartfelt toast--as his shirt sleeve slipped back to reveal his numbers from Auschwitz. Every single person there rejoiced and CELEBRATED the holiday; I'd never felt more thankful to be an American...