happy interdependence day
I am furiously writing this, on the eve of so-called Independence Day, in an attempt to direct my anxious energy in fewer than twelve directions.
When faced with great stress, great fear, this is what I do: I write, I create, I paint, I educate, I connect to people. It’s what I’ve always done.
Back in my college days, in the days of xanga and a time when my anxiety was high but the existential threats seemed far more theoretical than they are now, I blogged quite obsessively. I don’t have that kind of energy or stamina for screen time these days, but I’m returning to an idea I posted one July almost 20 years ago: Interdependence Day.
You see, my paternal grandparents were married on July 5, 1942, a date chosen not for any significance other than my Grandma Ila’s brother had to ship out to the Pacific and they bumped up their wedding date so he could still be a groomsman before deploying. Throughout my entire youth, we celebrated the 4th and 5th together, on their anniversary.
In my opinion, their anniversary is still the superior holiday.
“Independence” is overrated, and for more reasons than I knew these 20 years since that original July blog post.
For starters, none of us got where we are on our own power. Sure, I do a lot of things “independently,” but as my mother gradually loses her capacity to care for herself, and feels embarrassed about it for no reason other than internalized ableism, I can’t help but think our emphasis on rugged individualism and independence is harming us.
I mean, how long do we disabled folk wait for our determination process to finally conclude that yes, we are as disabled as we say we are, and we are not able to work or live as independently as we’re “supposed” to function in this society (just like we said!), and can we please just have some measly dollars so we can eat this month?
I digress.
I was looking through our vast trove of family photos today to find some photos of my grandparents’ anniversary celebrations. Fun fact: at one point they were celebrated as the longest living married couple in the state of North Dakota!
Do you know what I found? For as many photos as I found of my siblings and I posing with our grandparents, there were as many candid photos of family celebrations with my grandparents milling in the background, or mundane candids of them reading to us, and just as many photos that my grandmother had taken of us kids. My gram was quite the shutterbug, and she always let us pull off some silly ones, too!
I had a good cry going through all those photos; my grandpa passed in 2014 and my grammy in 2019, and July 5th just isn’t the same without them. I had my first bite of summer watermelon a few weeks ago and burst into tears— we always had watermelon at their anniversary. It was a really good watermelon.
I think about them a lot right now. Wally and Ila got married during WWII. They started a family with world war raging. I want to ask my grandma, weren’t you scared? Didn’t it all seem impossible? Did you think the world was really ending?
I think I’d know what she’d say, but instead of guessing, I’ll lean on something that she actually told me in her own words, when I asked her for marriage advice one year. Like I said, they were married a long time (71 years in total!), but she didn’t think it was a big fuss. Still, I managed to get a piece of advice out of her. Here’s what she told me, and it’s something I have held close, and I even included it in my toast at my sister’s wedding because I think it’s so important:
“I know you live together [in the same home], but you really have to live. together.”
Isn’t that beautiful? Here we were, watching fireworks on our 4th/5th celebration of so-called “independence,” and my wise grammy invoked the importance of interdependence. of doing life together.
We need each other. We need family, whether that be our family of origin or our chosen family. We need the connections we are forging right now, in this moment.
My grandma prayed a lot too. I know that helps me, and folks access their spiritual side in different ways. I think there’s something about connecting spiritually as a community, too. Because in the end, we do have to live together. For me, I let it guide me in a very… oh, here I go. It’s a very Florence + the Machine kind of way?
“is this how it is? Is this how it’s always been? to exist in the face of suffering and death and somehow, still keep singing?… There’s nothing else that I know how to do, but to open up my arms, and give it all to you.”
I could use a grammy hug right now. Instead, I’ll eat some watermelon, have a good cry, and spend their anniversary gathering with my friends in Spoonie Studio.
Because we need each other.
watermelon
my grandma grew the best sugar baby watermelons in her garden.
50th anniversary
my grandparents celebrated their 50th anniversary on July 5, 1992, with all their children and grandchildren in attendance.
70th anniversary
my grandparents celebrated their 70th anniversary on July 5, 2012. the venue was the local care home where my grandpa lived, and the room was small, so we couldn’t get the WHOLE family in the photo; this is my parents, siblings, and the two children my brother had at the time (he has four kids now).
