The Last Independence Day
American Twilight
Yesterday I cancelled all my plans and took the subway to Randall Island, then walked across the bridge to Astoria in Queens, then down to Greenpoint in Brooklyn, as close to the East River as the roads would allow me. The trip was about 10 miles.
All along the river: thousands of people from all over the world, celebrating the Fourth of July. I must have heard a dozen languages spoken as I worked my way down the East River. Families BBQing, kids running around with sparklers or playing those mysterious made-up games kids play. Adults drinking and laughing. Playing music from everywhere.
I saw an old Muslim couple sitting next to each other looking out at the water, blissfully happy together. A hundred feet away, people at an outdoor restaurant dancing to American pop. A little ways behind me, a huge cookout on a basketball court with rap music blasting.
Anyone can be an American. It’s what I love about this country. We are so young, we only go back 12 generations, with the exception of indigenous people we are all from somewhere else not so long ago.
If Biden doesn’t drop out, Trump will win the election. If by some miracle Trump loses this election, the Supreme Court time bomb will continue to tick. From King George to King Whoever in 12 generations. We could have grown up to…
