In 1960, my small hometown—May's Landing, New Jersey—celebrated its 250th anniversary with a pageant that went on for the entire summer. There were picnics and boat races and track meets and gatherings of all kinds. The men grew beards, the women wore long colonial dresses. It was a wonderful summer for this eleven-year-old, and it was all put together by a little town in South Jersey with 1,000 residents.
16 years after that, my wife and I were flying back into JFK Airport from England on the evening of July 4, 1976, our nation's 200th anniversary. It was a dicey time in America, which was just beginning to come to grips with the Vietnam War (if we ever did), Watergate, and the resignation of Richard Nixon. Yet, we came together as a nation to celebrate, and my wife and I were lucky enough to be overhead to view the spectacular spectacle of 200 tall ships sailing up the Hudson River.
For its 100th birthday on July 4, 1876—no, I wasn't there—America held what was called the Centennial Exposition, a kind-of World's Fair in Philadelphia's Fairmount Park. 37 countries and 26 states had exhibits that included demonstrations of two remarkable new products; the telephone and the typewriter. And food items such as Heinz ketchup and popcorn.
Given that history, can you imagine what our official 250th celebration will be like? The monumental achievements we have to celebrate, the glorious recognition of 250 years of the greatest nation on Earth; the land that originated truly Democratic ideals. Why, it will be...well no one's exactly sure what it will be.
This should be our celebration of celebrations, a nonpartisan national moment of reflection. But instead of putting the greatest minds together to construct a celebration that all Americans can get behind, the 250th celebration has devolved into we know not what.
Two rival organizations are competing to handle our 250th. America250 was established by Congress a decade ago. Then, President Trump, by Executive Order, created something called Freedom 250, the organization that put together Sunday's Ultimate Fighting Championship on the White House lawn. Freedom 250 has not faired well. It was built around the concept of what the President called the Great American State Fair. You probably remember how the proposed concert series connected to the State Fair went—most of the acts cancelled after learning that the direction was overtly political.
A proposed celebration of the states is not going well, either. Seven states have already announced they will not participate, both because of the political direction of the event and budgetary concerns.
Because our celebration has now been turned into a football game—our team vs. your team—we're going to miss a golden opportunity. This should've been the time to brag about America in utterly apolitical fashion. About space exploration, our myriad genres of music, our national park system, how many lives have been saved by advancements in medicine, computers, even the hated AI.
There will still be individual celebrations in hundreds of towns around the country, and some of them will be fantastic. Lehigh Valley dogs, by the way, should expect a record number of explosions. But I wanted my national 250th celebration—some grand version of the tall ships or an inclusive World's Fair. I wanted my July 4th dish of corn. Was it too much to ask? Little old May's Landing, New Jersey did it 66 years ago.
