Good morning and greetings, Independence Day fans. You know, when it comes to segments of time, it doesn’t get much better than a three day weekend. Well, except maybe for a four day weekend. There’s just something extra special about that added day. It’s no longer the dynamic duo of Saturday and Sunday, we’re talking extended weekend bonus time, where one can just sit back and say, “Hey, it’s only Friday. I still have two days to either work on a cure for an infectious disease, help out some people who are truly in need or just take the time to
accomplish as little as possible.” You know, like our forefathers and mothers did when the built this great country home of ours.

It’s the same feeling I get when I’m watching the NBA playoffs and there are three or four games a day. No matter how good the first one is, you still have two or three more contests coming down the pike. I have to believe this is what heaven is going to be like. But with no commercial interruptions.

For myself, it’s a day where I can just wrap myself up in a terrycloth robe and really experience televised sports to its fullest. Much like watching the national news every night, it’s not easy but someone has to do it. While some of us are hiking, surfing or kayaking, I’m taking in tennis, beach volleyball and major league baseball. These are my Olympic trials. And by the way, they are setting world records faster in these swimming races than the FARC rebels are imploding down in Colombia.

The tennis I’m talking about was Sunday’s Wimbledon Final between reigning champion Roger Federer and Spain’s Rafael Nadal. We may have seen the changing of the point guards today as the five-time champ Federer from Switzerland was defeated in a five set thriller by Nadal in a match that had NBC analyst and former tennis bad boy Johnny McEnroe calling it the greatest he’d seen in his lifetime. It was drama city at the All England Club as the Duke and Dutchess of Windsor were partying in their seats like it was 1999. Unfortunately, I only saw the beginning and end of the most classic of matches as a rain delay in England threw off my equilibrium and I was instead watching a week’s worth of SportsCenters when the action was the most dramatic. It was Epic City, truly as good as it gets.

Anyway, it was all part of the Fourth of July weekend experience. And every year on this day there is a parade at my parent’s complex that runs along the coast. My daughter is always a part of the parade. As she says, “Dad, it’s a tradition.” Just like me being non-judgemental. I thought I would walk the parade route and capture some of the color and pageantry of the event and then blog it out into cyberspace.

Usually I’m bringing up the rear, but on this day, besides having a birds-eye view of the lovely blonde and a long-limbed Uncle Sam, who definitely had the reach around move down in the lead car (photo #6,) I didn’t really see anything that was James or photo worthy. So after the parade I moseyed on down to the pond at the complex and immediately spotted some lily pads (photo #1). No, I’m not talking Lily Tomlin, Lily Allen or the lovely Lilly Von Schtupp, but greenery along with red and yellow flowers floating on a golden pond. As I got closer I saw that in one of the luxury pads was a duck who looked more comfortable than Ken Griffey Jr. from the left side of the plate. Then splashing onto the scene was a mother and a family of ducklings and intrepid Great Blue Heron. And finally, in the words of the great Eric Clapton, I’d have “to talk about the swans, that they live in the park.” When I saw this combination that the 4th of July Gods had put together, I knew I had today’s blog. Something wet and exciting.

So my sister-in-law and the Queen of Comments, Wendi Gilbert, asked me if I could the make blogs a little shorter. Unfortunately, my union chief and my meditation guide say I can’t but in her honor and the fact that the Yankees were winners over the Red Sox in 11 innings tonight I’m going to make this one a little less wordsome. Because that’s just the kind of guy I am. Very tolerant and Mr. Positive. At least according to my son, Jason. So have pleasant valley Monday and we’ll catch you on Wednesday when we’ll head to over the Nile, or denial, which is not just a river in Egypt. Later, tennis fans.