Let Freedom Ring ...in my neighborhood

July 4th morning I awoke early, but not necessarily bright.

I got a text late the night before from a friend that I hadn't seen in a while. Would I meet at the Silver Diner at 8:00 a.m.? Why sure. I temporarily forgot about the July 4th church function and figured it was more important to see the person that was in town.

We had a great conversation. She is a wonderful former co-worker. She is African-American and a great example to me. She gave the prayer over our food. We thanked the very gracious Hispanic waiter and both went our separate ways.

Driving into my neighborhood I saw the skinny older lady walking her dog. Her dyed blond hair, wrinkled sun spotted skin, and her constant cigarette smoking make her look a little out of place here, but she puffs away and walks through the curvy streets. Yep, it sounded a little trailer park-ish there for a moment, didn't it?

At the bottom of the hill, I turn toward my little neck of the woods. There on the basketball court, is the Thai lady that carries her own personal boom box, wears her tight yoga pants up to her chest and starts doing some kind of mixture of yoga, tai chi and ballerina pirouettes wherever she pleases. Today it's the basketball court, but other days it is dead center the middle of the sidewalk. It is quite the interesting sight. It at least puts a smile on my face.

Almost to the parking space and I look up at the building next to mine and the nice lady with lots of kids from India is washing her car. I've seen her wear jeans on a daily basis, but today she is in a beautiful sari all decked out and ...yet she is washing her car. Full fledged bucket of soap, scrubbing tires and car sides all while holding the hose and wearing an outfit worthy to wear at a fancy Indian restaurant.

The Indian lady upstairs is coming down the steps to go to the pool with her son. The Hispanic family is trying to buckle the kids into the car anxious to go celebrate somewhere. The disabled lady across the street has a friend in town that is carrying both their lawn chairs to view fireworks at some location nearby.

I don't have a date tonight and so I go inside, clean up a bit, turn on the tv to watch the celebration and crack the window so I can hear the noise of the local fireworks, though I can't see them from my neighborhood.

However, I feel very much a part of America sitting here at home. We are a strange bunch, all of us neighbors. But, we are what make this country great. Diversity of race, religion, culture, and thought.

God Bless America and let freedom ring!

P.S. Wish I had pictures. The characters of the neighborhood are truly a sight to behold and I'm including myself in this equation.