The last time America celebrated a big anniversary, I was all of three years old. Even so, I retain a few fuzzy memories from a sunny summer afternoon in small-town Michigan: climbing on a cannon in front of the courthouse, watching a parade, and seeing my dad, a veteran and Centreville city councilman, giving a short talk about democracy.
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Only later would I realize the significance of the date: July 4th, 1976, America’s bicentennial.
America was imperfect and inconsistent in its approaches to “freedom,” but the country had done some big, difficult things in recent decades. We had led the charge to roll back the tide of fascism and Holocaust during World War II. We had begun to confront internal demons through the nonviolent activism of the civil rights movement. And, critically for my own life trajectory, we had landed on the Moon.
The ’70s were hardly a simple or heroic time, but I was too young to experience the turbulence of the era. My dad fought in Vietnam but returned before I was born, and I have no recollection of Watergate or waiting in lines for gasoline during the 1970s energy crisis.
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Instead, I came of age in the 1980s, watching the Berlin Wall fall and American pop dominate the global charts. When I entered the job market during the 1990s, the economy was booming. Our investments in basic research and universities made this country the preeminent scientific and economic power in the world. By the start of the new millennium, with China only beginning its rise, there stood just a single superpower in the world. Despite our many problems and failures, America remained somethi
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