Is THIS What John Adam's Had In Mind?

By Roberta Durra

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light

On July 3,1776 John Adams wrote to his wife Abigail:

“The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.”

So just as Mr. Adams foresaw, a bunch of us, well approximately 18,000 of us went out on July 2, 2011 to a sold-out event at the Hollywood Bowl to celebrate “the most memorable epoch in the history of America”. This would be done with a grand display of fireworks, patriotic music led by the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra and Darryl Hall & John Oates playing hits from the 80’s.

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming

My husband and I started the festive evening by parking our car as far away from our 18,000 new friends as possible. This was done in the hopes of getting our car out of the lot at the end of the concert sometime before July 3^rd. We trekked from the parking lot carrying our picnic dinner packed in a paper bag, to the entrance of the Bowl where we met four of our friends who had also braved the crowds. Together the six of us entwined ourselves with the patriotic masses. We boldly walked, took escalators, stairs and ramps up to our destination, the nosebleed section of the Hollywood Bowl.

Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,

I have been privileged to sit in many different sections at “The Bowl”, from box seats up front, to mid-range sections, to nose bleed. And let me tell you the high altitude seating is the most freeing. Not only have you not paid the hundreds of dollars (and perhaps thousands some have paid to scalpers), but you are so far up and away from the show that you could be just about anywhere. There is no need to be quiet, attentive and respectful when you are leagues away from anything concert related. Why, I’m not even sure we really were at a Hall & Oates concert. From our vantage point, Hall & Oates were each about the size of a matchstick. I know John Oates is a short fella, but even he isn’t that tiny. John and Abigail Adams could have been down there playing electric guitars and I wouldn’t have known the difference. 

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming

Before the celebration began I stole a seat cushion for my friend. By stole, I mean took one that was on someone else’s empty seat. My friend really needed it, they were sold out of cushions and I did what seemed “best” at the moment. Karma was quick to rear its ugly head in my direction. It came in the shape of an irritating, sour faced woman hidden behind a tanker truck full of makeup with her lips lined so dark and thick, it made her vinegary expression even more prominent. She demanded we move down the bleachers so that she and her husband and two friends (who wouldn’t materialize until 30 minutes later) could have more space. We were right in the middle of eating our celebratory 2^nd of July sandwiches, orzo and fruit salad on paper plates precariously perched on our laps, and she had plenty of room to sit comfortably. Instinctively (the kind of spot-on instinct that made me steal the pillow), I leaned my entire body over my husband and rudely barked, “ARE THEY HERE YET?” I never do things like this. I never yell at strangers. I may think a nasty thought now and then, but why on this day when John Adams suggested one should “display solemn acts of devotion”, did I let it rip? Lip-lady and I continued to send nasty glares towards each other until we both got bored.

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

There was a guy in front of me who really didn’t care much about the music and was mostly into documenting everything with his Nikon. He stood and contorted himself in every position humanly possible in order to snap images of his wife, sister-in-law, her husband and his mother-in-law. I know their relation since I was just about sitting in their laps and it was impossible not to become intimately associated. This was especially true when the guy turned around periodically and snapped his camera in both my friend’s face and my own. It was startling and annoying. I think he was after the kids behind us with the glowing light sticks. I wanted to say, What’s up with this buddy? But I had already stolen a pillow and had the tiny fracas with the lady down the row. I didn’t want to alienate my entire section or get a reputation as a loud mouth. So I chose the high road and let him click away in my face. A decision I think John Adam’s would have applauded.

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

The Hollywood Bowl Orchestra played several beautiful and festive pieces of music. Actually, I’m guessing they were beautiful and festive because I didn’t pay much attention. My friend had just eaten one of the blue sugar cookies from the red, white and blue patriotic cookie selection I had bought from a reputable bakery, when her lips, teeth and tongue vibrantly stained themselves a royal blue. It wasn’t a soft, unnoticeable color change. Had she been wearing blue pajamas she would have been mistaken for a smurf. She was a good sport though, and laughed hysterically with the rest of us. I think this was during one of John Philip Sousa’s marches.

Then Hall & Oates came out. They played all of their greatest hits and they were duly rewarded in our high octane section by standing, dancing, arm-waving, yelling, singing patrons, some with light sticks and others with dangly flags connected to Slinky’s hanging from headbands. In the words of Hall himself, “I can’t go for that, nooo, no can do”

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

The fireworks were amazing. When the conductor of the orchestra announced the name of the pyrotechnic director my blue friend told me she had gone to high school with him and he had been the A.V. guy. Seems like the next logical step. He put on quite a show. It was big, colorful and magical. It was the only thing extraordinary enough to actually quiet our section. We sat with our heads tilted skyward and our mouths slightly open with frequent oooohhh’s and ahhhh’s. It was a beautiful display, more I think, than John Adams ever imagined when he spoke of “bonfires and illuminations”.

When it was over all 18,000 of us hung on to our partners and politely shuffled like penguins out of the bowl, only to probably meet again and celebrate with “pomp and parade” next July 2, 2012, just as Mr. Adams would have wanted.

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave