It’s our annual Fourth of July family gathering in our typical Midwest home. As usual, it consists of too much potato salad, my aunt’s screaming toddlers, and my uncle trying to out-grill my dad by “free-styling” with a blowtorch.
At 3 PM, the heat index is doing its thing, so most of us are hiding in the shade. My uncle, shirtless and armed with a spatula, is holding court near the grill, lecturing anyone who’ll listen about “true American values.”
Uncle: “The problem with this country is nobody respects tradition anymore. People don’t know where they come from. No roots. No pride.”
His daughter, my cousin, rolls her eyes.
Cousin: “You mean like how our Wi-Fi is named ‘RedWhiteAndBrew’ and the password is ‘1776baby’?”
Uncle: “I bet none of your friends even know who we fought in the Revolutionary War.”
Cousin: “England. You’ve said that six times today.”
Uncle: *Smirking.* “Well then, I guess my work here is done.”
He then tries to flip a burger, misses, and it slides between the grill grates into the flames.
Uncle: “It died a hero. Unlike Canada.”
That’s when my great-aunt, who’s been quietly sipping boxed wine on the porch, finally speaks up:
Great-Aunt: “Boy, you once claimed the Founding Fathers signed the Constitution at the Alamo. Sit down before you hurt yourself, Captain Constitution.”
She did in two sentences what none of us could do in two hours… she shut him up!
