KARL REICHERT

I was a child of the Bicentennial, so Independence Day has always been significant to me. I was 12 years old when the United States turned 200. Throughout my sixth-grade year we wrote essays about what it means to be American, and from an artistic perspective, I was infatuated with the American flag.

In the bedroom I shared with my younger brothers Kurt and Eric, the walls were repainted blue and our cowboy curtains were replaced with a new “Spirit of 76” print. I felt honored to be alive and to witness this important birthday for our country.

Then imagine my dismay when I woke up on July 4, 1976, to clear blue skies. As a dairy farm kid, I knew that even a milestone holiday like the Bicentennial didn’t excuse us from milking the cows or feeding the pigs. However, I selfishly hoped for a morning rain that would cancel hay baling in the afternoon. Morning rain would have improved my chances of tuning our TV to the one channel we could get clearly — KXJB-TV (a CBS affiliate in Fargo, N.D.) — and watch Walter Cronkite cover the amazing celebrations planned for New York City. If Walter was there, I wanted to be there, too, witnessing another significant event through his eyes.

Alas, it was not meant to be. Clear skies meant there was hay to bail. We couldn’t afford to take the risk of the cut hay being exposed to rain. So we spent our day under clear skies and a hot sun raking and baling hay. This didn’t stop me from holding my own Bicentennial celebration in my daydreams. As a budding journalist, I fantasized about sitting next to Walter Cronkite, telling the masses from coast to coast all about a historic sailing regatta on the New York harbor.

That’s the way it was back then. Farm work had to come before fun and games.

At 12 years of age, I understood that we could not afford to let hay spoil because we wanted a picnic or to go swimming.

As I look back to that day 33 years ago, I realize now that my work in the alfalfa fields actually helped make me a better American. I learned how to be industrious. I became physically strong and healthy dragging and lifting those hay bales. Most importantly, however, I honed my skills as a daydreamer, and I learned to think big. What can be more American than that?