In Grinnell, one can walk through the neighborhoods and know where the parade route is by the lining up of lawn chairs mid-afternoon. Where parties and gatherings welcome passersby with cold drinks, watermelon, and even live jazz in the backyard.
Walking down Broad street, I can "hear" my destination with music on the deck from The Funk Upstairs, a solo sax supported by a combo of drums, bass, rhythm, and keyboard. It's so Grinnell.
In Iowa, we don't show our independence with a parade of tanks, artillery, and soldiers passing by. It's grannies in flat bed trailers and old boys from the VFW. It's golf carts and vintage cars festooned with red, white, and blue. And the closest thing to armed soldiers are cub scouts with water pistols.
Instead of tanks, we show off the equipment that feeds the world. Tractors both antique and those so new they haven't seen any black Iowa dirt on their tires.
"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism." - Erma Bombeck
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