Friday, July 4, 1986. A Way Better Fourth of July.
*****
4:30 pm
Hot dogs, cheeseburgers, macaroni salad. American flags, Bruce Springsteen...
Hyde inevitably lowers his voice, to a jaded whisper. "The song doesn't mean what you think it means."
Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I'm ten years old, burning down the road
Nowhere to run, ain't got nowhere to go
Kitty, as sharp as a knife, anxiously nudges him. And Jackie swiftly follows suit, as they both hush the seeds of a quiet rebellion. "Shh."
Ignorance is bliss, as Red serves the main course. And Eric serves the macaroni salad.
"I made this, with my very own hands."
Kitty lovingly chuckles. "You used my recipe."
"Well..." Eric nervously laughs. "You got me there, Mom."
The two youngest, away from the gingham-clad picnic table, are happily gurgling in a large playpen. A quiet, raven-haired girl with big blue eyes, and a tiny, curious redhead. The eldest couple's grandbabies, by adoption and by blood.
The older two grandbabies, an olive-skinned boy and a sweet, adorable brunette with blue ribbons in her hair, are munching on small pieces of hot dog and are poking at macaroni salad with plastic forks.
The oldest grandbaby, a seven year old, is reluctantly in the midst of the adults. She feels like she's standing alone, though. The rest of the kids are literal babies, and she's just sort of...there.
But Betsy Kelso takes her duty as watcher very seriously. She even crafted a makeshift badge out of duct tape, just like her dad's.
Like her father, she is prone to hyperbole. "Kate's trying to eat a dandelion."
Eric and Donna nervously glance a few feet over, but are immediately relieved. Instead, Kate has simply picked a dandelion, and is turning it round, and round, and round...
Becca, a few months older and wiser, looks at her like she has two heads. "Gah."
"Aren't they adorable?" Kitty proudly gushes, hand firmly on her heart. "My grandbabies."
Red gruffly groans, but his old heart quietly melts. "You've said that a million times."
"It doesn't make it any less true, Red." Becca is now anxiously crawling around, leaving Kate at a wobbly standstill. "Look, she's exploring."
"She's the one that you need to watch," Red cautions, turning to Jackie and Hyde, "She'll eat the damn...darn dandelions."
Betsy, the fervent watcher, proudly sounds the alarm. "Pop said a bad word!"
Kelso chuckles, as the word "dumbass" is at the tip of Red's tongue. "Get used to it, Bets."
*****
5:00 pm
Dinner is officially over, but the American flags are still fluttering in the breeze. And Bruce Springsteen is still blasting.
Glory days
Well, they'll pass you by, glory days
In the wink of a young girl's eye, glory days
Glory days
Meanwhile, Red and Kitty are proudly perched in lawn chairs, happily clinking their glasses together.
The aging blonde smiles. "You know, I bought that Lee Greenwood cassette."
"God Bless the USA" is a bit corny, even for a proud veteran like him. "I can write a better song than that."
"I'd like to see you try," Kitty lovingly challenges, "I think it's profound. 'And I won't forget the men who died, who gave that right to me.'"
"I'd list all the wars." Far from a creative soul, Red concocts a simple list. "Revolutionary, 1812, Mexican-American, Civil..."
She shakes her head. "That doesn't sound like a good song."
"Lee Greenwood isn't even a damn veteran," He gruffly declares, "He's like Eric."
Kitty spies, with her little eye, an adorable little diversion. Hyde and Eric are lying in the playpen, with Hyde propelling a happily squealing Becca in the air, and with Kate lying on Eric's chest.
Then, in a split second, she's back to ground zero. The uncomfortable trenches. "There haven't been any wars for him to fight."
"You know he wouldn't join."
"Well, he'd join the most important ones," Kitty amply defends, before reluctantly acquiscing, "You know he's lippy about 'Nam."
"Don't remind me." He briefly diverts, as Eric compares Becca to the Millennium Falcon. Then, he shakes his head in disdain. "He thinks the Star Wars program is a disgrace to Star Wars."
Kitty sighs, but while happily kicking the can down the road. A tiny pebble, beneath her shoe. "He still hasn't gotten over that Luke and Leia thing."
Red's foot anxiously taps to the rhythm. "Don't remind me."
*****
5:30 pm
He doesn't know why the hell he put in that damn Lee Greenwood cassette.
If tomorrow all the things were gone
I worked for all my life
And I had to start again
With just my children and my wife
Hyde is muttering something rebellious. Eric is nervously shaking his foot to the rhythm. Laurie is...who the hell knows where.
But at least his two sons are there. He doesn't agree with a lot of their politics, or like a lot of their music, but they're good men.
They surmounted the odds. Hyde isn't dead, roaming in a motorcycle gang, or in prison. Eric is still lippy, and still loves Star Wars, but he doesn't let it define his life. He tries to be the hero of the South Side of Chicago, in his own, weird way.
And because of them, their granddaughters are proudly perched on their laps. He has Becca, and Kitty has Kate. Kitty Jr, of course.
All the while, Becca is sleeping in his arms, as the former basement dwellers lovingly coo.
And predictably, so is Kitty. "You think you're Oscar the grouch, but you're not."
He can't help but smile. "I guess my life isn't garbage, huh?"
In turn, she lovingly kisses him on the cheek. "I'd say it's pretty damn good."
*****
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