The morning of July 4th dawned with a knock on Sonrisa’s hull. A clatter. A thump.....CRASH!!! “GRIN! Buddy! What are you doing?” Andrew says, rolling out of bed and climbing the stairs to see what Grin is up to. He’s floated forward and is ramming Sonrisa in the waves.

“Wake up! Wake up! It’s my favorite day!”

I rub the sleep from my eyes and scowl at Andrew as he looks back at me. “Grin’s favorite day....is the Fourth of July?" Andrew shrugs.

“We’re awake, Grin.” Andrew climbs over the rail and pushes Grin away from Sonrisa with his foot. Grin’s tether unwinds itself from the wind vane and he floats free. Andrew climbs back downstairs and starts whirring the coffee grinder.

“Well, Guys. What are we going to do? We have to do something fun. Come on guys! What are you doing down there! Let's go do something fun!” Grin’s muffled but unavoidable chattering coming from Sonrisa’s stern draws me up and out.

"Since when is the 4th of July your favorite day?”

“Hmmmm......” Grin thinks back, “I think since the year we surrounded British Sailing Ship Romano, and claimed it as American territory. Though, I did also like the firework show in San Diego before we left.

“If you say so, Grin.” I duck below to the sound of Grin howling patriotic tunes into the morning sea breeze.

We were indeed planning Fourth of July Celebrations for later that evening. Outnumbering any other national contingent in this anchorage by 4 to 1.5 (unless you count Pete The Scozzie as a full Australian), the Americans offered to team up and host a traditional Fourth of July aboard Erie Spirit. BBQ Chicken, Potato Salad, and Green Salad with Ranch Dressing...we had planned for a delivery of cold, bubbly beer based on promises made by the footman responsible for our good behavior in Male, but that fell through. So, our fully American meal had to be sullied by a bottle of Shiraz from the land down under instead. For dessert, I improvised graham crackers, making my own homemade version of a S’more in order to correct an imbalance in the Universe I had no idea existed.

Specifically, did you know a S’more is not an ubiquitous food known and loved throughout the world? Indeed, not even known and loved through our fellow English speaking countries. Though our Australian friends had possibly heard of them from the movies, neither had ever partaken of those wonderful crispy, gooy, smoky, sweet, chocolaty, cinnamon and honey laden morsels!

Finding myself with a bag of marshmallows and a Hershey’s chocolate bar, all I needed do is figure out how to incorporate a graham cracker. Those, too, do not seem to be available for purchase anywhere I've seen. “Does anyone know of another cookie or cracker that can substitute for a graham cracker?" I ask.

“A gram cracker?” Jen asks.

“Yeah! You know, a graham cracker."

“What are you saying? Gram, like as in the measurement?”

“What? No! A Graham Cracker. G-R-A-H-A-M. I think it’s a person's name. The guy who invented them, probably.”

The Australians look back at me blinking with blank faces. “Greeehhhhhaaaam?" They say, “That’s an entirely different word, you are saying it wrong.” (Apparently we don’t even say the word the same way, but is that really a surprise?)

“Okay....Greeeeehhhhhhaaammm. Do you know what would substitute for a Greeeehhaaaammmm cracker?”

“Never heard of it.” Pete confirms.

“That does it!” So, I hunted the internet for a suitable recipe for homemade graham crackers, and took to my baking oven to remedy this terrible situation.

Meanwhile, the teams were proceeding with passage repair lists, arranging for fuel to be filled, and making last minute grocery orders.

“Get more marshmallows!” Grin requests. “And eggs. We will need a lot of them for Chagos.”

“Grin, why do you care if we have eggs? You don’t eat eggs?”

“I’m arranging a 4th of July Egg Shell Race for later tonight! Tango and She-Who-Has-No-Name love eggshell regattas, too.” Grin says this as if I should know exactly what he’s talking about. “Well, I have to do something with all those used egg shells you throw out the hatch and into my hull, don’t I?”

“Okay… well, I was going to hold off on buying eggs for another week because we want them to be as fresh as possible if we are able to go to Chagos.”

“What!? A Week!?” Grin protests. “But Gusteau is leaving the day after tomorrow!”

Gusteau is Mark and Susan’s breadmaker. Grin and Gusteau have had an ever deepening relationship since the last time Erie Spirit sailed on without Grin.

“Gusteau says to tell you he misses Grin.”

“Gusteau misses Grin?” (This probably should have been my first clue that Grin had started moonlight conversations with the crew of Erie Spirit.)

“Well, yeah! Before Grin came along, Gusteau spent all his non-working hours lashed down below the navigation table. He met Grin, and suddenly he started to travel, meet new people, get fresh air and sunlight…”

“Uh...ha.” I said, smiling and giggling to myself just a little bit. Grin brings out the best in lots of people…and bread baking machines.

Of course by now, you know they were reunited. But, as of the Fourth of July, it was beginning to look like these two friends may have to re-convert their relationship to pen pals, quite soon. The other two Amigos’ Chagos permits were set to start on the 10th of July, and they were targeting a departure date of the 8th. Grin convinced me to put in our applications to travel onward, but we were still waiting for a response.

Today’s further confirmation of delay befouls Grin's jolly mood and he splashes cantankerously in the waves behind Sonrisa's hull while we await the graham crackers to finish baking.

“Ping!” It’s about this time that we get a text from the Captain of Fair Sailing Ship Romano (formerly British, but now U.S.S. Romano thanks to Grin circa July 2017) wishing us a Happy Fourth of July. “I wanted to celebrate, too, but the Americans in my anchorage say they are taking this year off.”

“Taking the year off?” I ask.

“They say they can’t celebrate with how things are going right now.”

“Oh, pish posh!” I say, “Just because your grandfather is mowing the lawn in circles while talking to himself, doesn't mean you skip his birthday party all together. You light up his candles for him, bake him a cake, give him a hug. Then, you convene with the family to figure out how to help grandpa get back on track.”

I receive a virtual shrug in response. “Not my decision.”

Being so far away from home during all this turmoil bothers me sometimes, too. I feel responsible to my country to be at home helping in whatever way I can to solve or improve whatever ill I have the skill to solve. “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country!”

Whenever I express this, and in response our Australian friends say, “You Americans.”

“What? Why? Don’t you feel like you should be at home helping?”

“Not really, not for my country. Maybe just for humanity...”

Our Australian friends say the way we Americans pledge allegiance to the flag at school every morning is a creepy weird form of brainwashing they don’t understand. “No one else does that!”

“You don’t pledge allegiance to the Australian flag?”

“No!”

“The Queen?”

“Oh come on! No!”

It was a serious question. (And now I know that Pledging Allegiance and eating S’Mores have something in common.)

These conversations always make me realize how the differences in the “operating systems” of both people and countries is so much wider than I imagined they would be.

So many freedoms and ideas I take for granted do not apply where we have been. I have spent the last three years, almost, in countries where there is no freedom of religion (you must be a certain religion to be a citizen), or there are limitations on the freedom of religion to the five major religions (atheism is not allowed, and you must state your chosen religion on government issued identification such as drivers licenses, birth certificates, etc.) As we enter some of these countries, we too, must declare our religion and state it on our entry documents. It is an odd experience for me.

Many places also do not adhere to freedom of speech. Culturally and legally there are places where we must hold your tongue on various unpopular topics lest you are fined or even imprisoned - local citizen or foreigner alike. Our local friends/agents in these places who host rallies or help with immigration processes have repeatedly explained that while the local government leaders understand we all come from lands with different notions of “right speech,” we need to be careful. Especially as the political tensions around Covid has progressed, sailors on Facebook forums and the like have had to be warned not to criticize the governments of their host countries - not just because it's impolite to do while they are hosting us in extreme circumstances - but because freedom of speech simply does not apply and an errant speaker can find themselves in hot water. And it goes beyond what you write or say. In several places we have been, for example, it would be unlawful for citizens or non-citizens alike to rebut statements by the President using humorous, lighthearted, but entirely serious T-Shirt Graphic such as this:

Even among “democracies” there are varying notions about what the meaning of “freedom” might actually be, and I can see Covid separating each of us further. I am fascinated by how seriously my fellow Americans take the phrase: “Liberty or Die!” in comparison to say - Australia. While the U.S. borders remain open and our citizens can come and go as we please if other countries will take us, in contrast, Australia charges citizens $2,500 to be locked into an official, government operated quarantine for two weeks upon their return home. Once they are there, Australian citizens are prohibited entirely from leaving the country. Both countries enjoy “freedom,” but there are major differences in how our governments are currently interpreting just how far that freedom goes.

I treasure much of what America stands for; I am also realistic. America is a nation of flawed humans with failed notions and regrets. I mourn the areas of our failings as I see them as much as I celebrate the things I love. But, as Andrew continuously reminds our Australian friends (still Prisoners of Mother England):

“America is formed on the spirit of rebellion against injustice and tyranny. We have good ideals at heart.”

“No,” Pete claims, “you rebelled because you didn't want to pay taxes for a bag of tea.”

“INJUSTICE!” Andrew proclaims balling his fist and punching it into the air.

Pete raises his eyebrow, and I shrug. “It’s like prison culture. There’s always that one guy who seems pretty friendly but you never know when he will stab someone in the throat over a bag of tea.”

Realizing now that some of “these truths we hold self evident” actually are not “self-evident” to other people, I wonder to what extent their existence and definition are self-evident even among our fellow Americans. No wonder we are fighting and struggling amongst each other.

This idea to “be free or die fighting” doesn’t just apply to wars and physical struggles against other nations at least for me, it applies to ideas and philosophies as well. Do all Americans carry the same notion/definition of what freedom means that I do? Certainly not. And so, is there any wonder that we struggle to find consensus and fight tooth and nail for whatever version we attest to? But, even this attitude is not common across the world. We have been places where the cultural philosophy can be described as “pick your battles," and “build consensus or forget it.” The differences in these attitudes change many, many things about how the people in our culture or others live their lives.

I can see benefits and detriments to both ways of thought.

America is nothing more than an agreement between her people to live under a structure set up by our ancestors and refined through the generations. The torch is in our hands, and we are just as responsible to right wrongs, defend justice, and live peacefully among our fellow citizens as our ancestors were. None of that is easy. Whether it's perfectly designed or perfectly executed, another year has passed in our collective American attempt to form and keep a society most likely to grant its citizens life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And just like my own birthday, some years go better than others. I demand my cake and ice cream, regardless, to celebrate the bare fact that I exist and I tried again for another year.

And so, later that afternoon, as promised to Grin, Andrew re-installs Sonrisa’s ship flag atop the boat hook and we unfurl it sky high as we traverse the anchorage from Sonrisa to the decks of Erie Spirit. For good measure, Grin circles Erie Spirit a couple times decreeing these waters (at least temporarily) hollowed ground of the United States of America for purposes of celebration and inevitable tomfoolery.

I made S’Mores for America, defended her vigorously from the tirades of frenemies, and renewed my hope for a better year. We surveyed the collection of country music songs dedicated to ‘Merica!, sang the national anthem, and completed the pledge of allegiance. Grin’s racing eggshell flagged by Old Glory sank after rounding the second race mark.

As Grin leaves the party, he calls out to Gusteau. “See you tomorrow Little Buddy! Don't leave for Chagos without me!”