AJ Jones is a writer and creator of art, expressing herself across different mediums. She embraces her neurodivergence as a unique way to view the world in hopes of creating a better future. She first published this essay on her Substack newsletter, Blue Dot Thoughts.

As I consider my plans for this year’s special Semiquincentennial, I find myself wistfully remembering the Bicentennial 50 (wow) years ago.

We were all patriots

In 1976, there was no argument; we were all patriots. Nestled between the end of the Vietnam War and Nixon’s downfall, and Reagan’s promise of trickle-down economics there was a time when our country felt whole, if only for the year leading up to the celebration.

It was different then. Someone with no work experience could find a job in local manufacturing. There were so many factories about.

My mom worked in a factory. My step-father was an over the road truck driver. The talks around the table on the weekends were about family health insurance options and the need for unions.

When questions about water quality occasionally came up, all we had to do was call the Culligan Man (!) to prevent scale and lime buildup. We didn’t have to worry that our water could be killing us.

PBS would show the end static-y replay of our National Anthem to end the broadcast day. How my heart would swell and my soul would soar as the music drifted into my room.

Sesame Street and Mister Rogers and Bob Ross gave gentle instruction on kindness, diversity, tolerance, and inclusion.

There was a neat and tidy butcher shop kitty-corner from our house. Meat today doesn’t even come close to tasting as good as it did back then.

We had Schoolhouse Rock which educated us on civics, language and arithmetic. The major threat to our existence was that aerosol sprays were depleting the ozone.

There were public service announcements about nutrition, ecology, and about the Bicentennial. (We were required to say Bicentennial. So, I found it strange when I had to actually look up “Semiquincentennial.” Granted it is a mouthful to force people to use.)

1976 Bicentennial message (of special interest to Iowans: keep your eyes peeled for the nod to Grant Wood.)

We played lawn darts, rode our bicycles without protective headgear, most of us abstained from eating lead paint chips. We weren’t required to buckle up for safety.

We drank soda from glass or aluminum cans. (It would be two more years before plastic was misguidedly introduced as an option.)

Lessons and learning

In 1976 I was 12 years old, in the sixth grade. The previous summer a group of elementary teachers went to those east coast landmarks that are so entwined with our nation’s history. My social studies teacher, a woman who had served our country in the WAVES (Women Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service), still possessed her military bearing. It was with that exact precision she took us on a slideshow tours of the birthplace of our nation, complete with lessons.

That year, more weekends than not, I was sprawled on the floor handwriting papers for different Bicentennial-themed contests. My papers never placed 1st, 2nd or 3rd, but they did qualify for “honorable mentions” which only served to spur my my love for writing.

It was that school year I discovered a love for biographies. I read almost every biography our small library held. It started with Revolutionary War heroes, then moved to notables like Helen Keller, and J.C. Penney.

Relearning

Fast-forward fifty years. I am learning those I had elevated to “hero status” were just ordinary people, with ordinary flaws, who showed up at an extraordinary time.

This Semiquincentennial lead-up to the celebration feels like a letdown as I learn about “colonization” and the benefits of a matriarchal system.

I am learning that gardening and canning (which I dreaded as a child) are skills now being taught in small groups, as the current administration takes an axe to safety nets that have been solidly in place 50 years ago.

I am learning the excellent educational system that greatly benefited me, and one of the things Iowa was once known for, has been hollowed out.

The manufacturing jobs have been shipped overseas. Corporations now have legal rights exceeding those of the individual, and the U.S. Supreme Court is stripping away the very foundation of our constitutional rights.

I am learning that some people are more impressed with another’s ego than the actual celebration of the good our nation has accomplished.

It’s a difficult challenge to watch people who hold elected office sell out their communities for projects that will provide tens of jobs. Projects that will leave those same communities holding the bag financially while modern day carpetbaggers (exploiting local resources and opportunities for personal gain, especially in the political or economic arenas) steal away natural resources like in the case of data centers.

Terrifyingly, at this moment just bringing up data centers could have me labeled a terrorist.

This is not the America I recognize, hoped for, or dreamed of.

I envisioned; I envision

As I watched the parade roll by that summer, I never once considered my constitutional rights would be in peril. I never once considered rights afforded to women, like voting and reproductive health care, would be on the chopping block.

I envisioned flying cars. I envisioned communication devices like on Star Trek. I envisioned the freedom to love who I love. I envisioned learning the secrets of the cosmos. I envisioned a better world.

I never conceived of the possibility that people, and institutions, would turn their back on science. I never conceived of the possibility that our government would turn its back on marginalized groups in favor of corporations.

While it is possible that some innovation will allow me to witness the next 50 years, I don’t hold out much hope for that. So this year, I will drive to a quiet location, record the fireworks and hope my heart swells with hope once again as the national anthem pours through the speakers of my vehicle…

Because while this country has turned its back on so many, it doesn’t mean we will turn our backs on her, and what it could be. Perhaps one day a child will read about us and come to understand we, too, were ordinary people, with ordinary flaws, showing up at an extraordinary time.

Flower Flag ~ Wally Hedrick 1954