america, the beautiful

1976, the year of the bicentennial of the United States. Everyone was America crazy. The country was decked out in red, white, and blue, from bumper stickers to bellbottoms to building facades. Parties were planned, backyard barbecues and city-wide extravaganzas. Our fire hydrants were painted the colors of the flag. There was a bicentennial quarter issued. We were fresh off the Vietnam War and the “Spirit of ‘76” was a time to feel renewed, to rejoice, to let freedom ring.

Our neighbor had an ’75 AMC Pacer. This car was small and looked a little bit like a fishbowl. Here, let me show you.

Vivian’s Pacer was blue, and it was adorned in American flags because Vivian was the biggest proponent of the bicentennial I knew. There was a rather large flag flying from the antenna, several bumper stickers, and decals all over the car. Viv was about 300 pounds and she folded herself into that car every morning that summer wearing one of her many America-themed dresses. She was a flag herself, decked out in a red, white, and blue and I’d watch her in the morning as she got into her Pacer. She’d wave to me, bellow “God Bless America,” and go off to work.

We were all feeling patriotic that summer, but I remember Viv and her car more than anything or anyone else, that brazen display of patriotism that made me, a disaffected fourteen year old, sort of swell up with…