Tahoe Pine Nuts: What, exactly, does it mean to have a Fourth of July?
Special to the Bonanza
As a friend was quick to say, “One more and we’d have a fifth.”
The statement encouraged me to step into a stream of consciousness and find out what pops into my mind when I think about the Fourth of July:
Shake a veteran’s hand. That’s the way I’d like to start my day and have a cup of mud with that veteran.
It’s always good to read the Declaration of Independence on the Fourth and remember why we left Jolly Old England in the first place. King George was a dreadful old ass. As Huckleberry Finn described royalty in general, “All I say is, kings is kings. Take them all around, they’re a mighty ornery lot. It’s the way they’re raised.”
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But lets skip the grievances and go straight to the heart of the matter in the Declaration, “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.” Powerful words — mighty powerful.
I’d like to take Lady Rebecca out to Susie Scoops Ice Cream, where we can spoil ourselves in the shade of a sugar pine tree with a couple hand-dipped, waffle ice cream cones.
I’d like to say goodbye to the pesky blackbirds that divebomb you when you are out running along Lakeshore Boulevard in June and dig their sharp little claws into your scalp, causing you to jump out of your shoes and let go with a litany of curses, which in turn causes passers-by to assume you are a crazy person.
At the same time, I’d like to say goodbye to the pine pollen of June that makes your eyes bulge out to where you look like a dragonfly on steroids.
Then there are the Red, White and Tahoe Blue events to attend. I’m going to try to make them all, so long as the money holds out.
I do wish we would promote Red, White and Tahoe Blue on Memorial Day instead of the one day in the year when everybody in lake-less California and river-less Nevada will be heading to Lake Tahoe with their tongues out to get a taste.
I’d like to get down to Genoa to hear the Carson Symphony Orchestra play “Home Means Nevada” in the park. If that doesn’t give you chicken skin, you ain’t right.
Finally, the fireworks. As good fortune would have it, we can see the fireworks from our deck through the trees, at least we could 10 years ago. Then it went to filtered fireworks, and now it’s “essence of fireworks.”
But no matter, when you’re as old as I am, you don’t need to see the fireworks anymore, you just need to hear them, and they go off in your head.
When it’s quiet again, and a respectful hush falls over the Lake Tahoe Basin, I shall hoist my glass and send a silent toast to our Lake of the Sky, “Here’s to Tula Tulia, to her majesty, and to America the Beautiful. God bless Lake Tahoe, and God bless the U.S.A.”
To learn more about McAvoy Layne, visit http://www.ghostoftwain.com.
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