July 4, 1976. Fifty years ago.
I was fifteen-years-old. We lived in a subdivision west of town called Lake Charlotte. That night, we watched the fireworks being shot off in town at the top of Lake Charlotte Court. We sat on the street with our bikes over by the side of the road, impressed that we were witnessing the Bicentennial, the two hundreth birthday of our great nation.
Had we been asked if we'd be around for our semiquincentennial, we would have stared distantly, wondering what a semiquincentennial was. Had we been told that it would be the two hundred and fiftieth birthday, we would have haughtily said yes, but we'd have wondered privately if we'd be around then.
Yet here we are, in 2026, celebrating the semiquincentennial. It's July 4, 2026, and I'm sixty-five-years old, eligible for retirement. In my six and a half decades of life, I've lived through many good and many bad times. We buried our mother thirty years ago; had she lived to see the semiquincentennial, she'd have been approaching her ninety-fifth birthday. Sadly, she didn't make it to sixty-five. Fortunately, our country did, and then some.
Ours is the greatest country in the world. That's both prideful and objective. Our country has had glorious triumphs. But it has also saved the world on several occasions from the scourge of fascism, communism and authoritarianism. It has saved countless people from famine, disaster and plague. It welcomes the world and shows it what true liberty is.
No, it's not perfect. Being the greatest does not equal perfection. We, as a republic, have a long way to go in that department, but the important thing is that we never stop striving for perfection. Every improvement we make short of that goal is still a benefit to humanity.
So I'll watch fireworks virtually (it's raining and ungodly hot tonight) and toast my country, thankful for God's grace to have allowed me to be born here. I'll thank the men and women who have protected us and our republic and pray that we have the sense to keep it, as Benjamin Franklin warned us to do.
I've written a book about my time in Spain. One of the best lines I've ever written is the last one of the book: As a man loves his mother but is in love with his wife, I love my country but am in love with Spain.
I am and forever will love my country. May God continue to bless the United States of America, the greatest country in the world.
(c) 2026 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
