On a sweltering July 4th in 1999, we took our almost one year-old son to hear a live reading of the Declaration of Independence in Williamsburg, Virginia.
We had that new-parent enthusiasm for an excursion with the baby. In that optimistic mindset, we weren’t deterred by crowds, parking, or even the heat. We suited up and loaded up with our diaper bag and stroller, bottled water and snacks and drove the hour or so across the water to Williamsburg ready to celebrate our son’s first Independence Day. Our commitment was unwavering as we paid for parking and strapped Jack into his stroller, pulled down the sun visor and started walking to the Colonial Courthouse.
We noticed quite quickly that the heat was going to be as oppressive as King George himself. But we persevered, stripping Jack down to his flag embossed onesie and slathering him in sunscreen as he slumped with the weight of the sun. We found a spot up front in the crowd and vigorously doused Jack with water as we waited for the 18th century residents of Williamsburg to read the historic declaration on this last year of the 20th century. The reader came out onto the steps in full costume and with a spirit of gleeful but reserved rebellion. He began….
“When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
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.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…”
I kept my eye on Jack waiting for a cranky, heat induced cry. But he, a born Virginian, let the sun and the precious words of rebellion, love him with all their crackle and flame. I’d like to think he was listening, that we were passing on something to him that might not have been in his bones or blood, some belief in freedom, in activism, in hope that people have power when they join together in a cause. When the crowd booed the King, I found myself joining in knowing Jack was watching even though he was so small, so young. Part of me believed the words and even the message would seep in as much as the heat.
Years later, I would discover that it did.
We returned to Williamsburg after almost two decades to hear the reading again. This time from the Capitol where Thomas Jefferson himself reads from the balcony to the assembled crowd.
We arrived with three kids this time, two teenagers and the youngest. I was flooded, of course, with the vision of us as young parents unsure of anything but always paying deep attention to our instincts and floundering forward. It was hard to imagine the kids as anything but what they were in each moment of their development. We just kept loving them and showing them. Then, they grow, and keep growing up, up and away, of course.
On this July 4th visit, I watched all three kids walk through the old streets of Williamsburg looking for Jefferson with expectation and curiosity. If you’ve been to Williamsburg, you know that the actors in full costume stay in character when you talk to them even if you are just asking for directions. They answer questions as if it’s the 1700s and stay faithful to the historic vibe.
We got in line to enter the courtyard of the colonial Capitol in preparation for Jefferson to come out on the balcony for the live reading. When we got to the gate, the woman told us we needed tickets to enter. I was immediately aghast and righteousness roiled inside me.
I don’t know if it was the actors or the unexpected rejection, but I accessed some long buried colonial rebellious streak and told the woman that she was not acting in the spirit of 1776. I mean of all times to let all people, commoners and ticket holders alike into the same space, I think the reading of the Declaration of Independence calls for that kind of community of the people.
I didn’t linger at the gate. My rabble rousing doesn’t run that deep. We moved on to the brick wall surrounding the courtyard where we could still hear but could barely see for the height. We stewed for a bit, our indignation growing, the history not lost on us, the spirits maybe egging us on reminding us what it means to rise up against tyranny.
Then suddenly, the two teenagers, our kids, are climbing the brick wall and heaving themselves over into the courtyard. My mouth drops open, and I know my eyes are wide, and I’m trying to listen to my instincts that want to hiss at them to get back here right this minute and to shout questions like “What do you think you’re doing?You can’t just go in there without a ticket. Get back here right now. Your little brother is watching you.”
But instead, I watched them with wonder as they connected with that old and true American spirit of rebellion against unduly authority. I stood there with pride as I saw them take the pursuit of happiness into their own hands and do something I would have never done. A small act of resistance yes, but perhaps good practice for more important ones to come.