July 4th

After nine years in the US, Dad and I determine it is time for us to celebrate July 4th in something like the American manner. Andrew has finished work, so we pick him up around 2 pm and head to downtown Chattanooga. What is the parking situation here? Still alright? Yes, we find the Unum Provident lot is still virtually empty, and head in there. The trolley is in place to transport people across the bridge to Coolidge Park, where the evening celebration will be held. I am, as always, concerned about getting to where we want to be NOW, but Dad controls my neurotic tendencies, at least for the moment. We decide to spend some time around Broad Street. We go into Greyfriars in order to spend the gift certificate Andrew got Dad for his birthday. I get my usual hot chocolate and Dad and Andrew their coffee. Hmmm, this place is sure different under its new ownership...Cleaner, more orderly. The hangers - on have obviously been discouraged from coming, but they have tidied up a little too much. The bookshelves are gone. The dessert cooler is almost empty - not the usual profusion of cakes of all types. I'm not sure I like it as much as I did when it was slightly run down.

We finish our drinks and leave, meandering down Broad Street toward the aquarium. As always, there are children everywhere, playing in the interconnecting streams that surround the building. No buskers, though. Wonder where they are. Have they been tidied up, too? Hope not. A town can be only so orderly before it sacrifices character, though know there is a fine balance...We head across the bridge and see that already people are beginning to collect in the park, though festivities will not begin for a few hours. I begin to panic. We have got to get down there, claim our spot. Again, Dad restrains me. I'm not going to sit there for hours. I want to go and get dinner at Big River. Yikes. This is hard for me. I control myself and we wander through a few stores. As we head down toward the river, I see the old Greyfriars regulars sitting at a newly-opened coffee shop. So that is where they have migrated! We stop by the carousel to watch the children play for a minute or two, then walk through Coolidge. I get more and more nervous with the people steadily coming through with their lawn chairs and grills. They have staked out their position and I can't. This is truly terrible. Soon, it is time to cross back over to the other side of the river on the walking bridge. This is where Dad decides he wants to set up for the concert and fireworks. I am not so sure. I want to be closer to the stage. I give way, and send Dad and Andrew back to the car for our lawn chairs so we can claim our bit of bridge! I idle over to a man already settled in and chat while I wait. He says he sits there every year, and it is a great location. He also promises to guard our chairs while we go for dinner. Hooray! Mission accomplished! Now I can relax and enjoy the rest of the day.

We have an early dinner at Big River, then wend our way back to the bridge. We, of course, have a grand view of the park underneath us. It is filling up, as people enter in a steady stream. First, there are distinct clusters, but soon a sea of folks of all ages. Funny, there are hardly any black people at all. What do they do on July 4th? Do they celebrate the beginning of their nation at all? Don't know....Strings of balloons - red, white and blue - stretch high into the sky. Finally, one too many is attached, and the whole string floats up into the sky. Fun to see how long I can keep an eye on them...Boats, yachts are beginning to fill the Tennessee River adjacent to the park...Eventually, our section of the bridge - the whole thing, for that matter - becomes crowded. People everywhere. I try not to think of the structural issues which prevent it from carrying vehicular traffic. (How much do all these people weigh, relative to cars and trucks?) We turn our lawn chairs around to avoid the sun as it gets lower in the sky and begins to shine in our eyes. A man comes by and asks whether he can set up his chairs right behind us...Of course. My name is D--- S------- and I am an adjunct professor at Covenant College. We chat and quickly realize we know many of the same people...I advised Richard Ganz to go to Westminster...He studied under Van Til and begins to tell us stories about him:

One: Students, I have just two requirements for essays you write for me. First, they must be good. Second, they must be long...But Sir, what is long?...I once had a student who received an A for a ten-page paper........And if you think you can do as well as Johnny Frame...........

Two: D---S------- is going to play a trick on Van Til. He knows he never really reads those long papers. In the middle of his essay, he puts the following sentence. If you read this, I will buy you a chocolate ice cream cone - then goes on. He hands it in, and Van Til decides to mark it on the spot. He shuffles through the pages at a superhuman rate, writes something, hands it back, and goes off to his next class. So does D S. When he eventually decides to look at his grade, it is the comment he notices: I prefer strawberry.

Three: Professor Van Til has retired. D S, now working at a bookstore to earn college funds, is surprised when he comes in to buy children's books. Van Til and his wife have no children, no grandchildren...Yet he is buying Mother Goose, fairy tales, children's stories of all types. Eventually, he decides to ask, why? Why are you buying these?...When my wife and I were young, there weren't such stories for us. During my teaching years I did not have the time to read them. Now my wife and I sit together at night and we take turns reading them out loud.

Four: Professor Van Til is old. He no longer has the mental ability he did while younger. People still want to meet him, but they are told not to tax him too much. Yet on this evening, someone does. He is asked a difficult theological problem. He says: If you look in my book ----------- on page --you will find the answer to that. I can no longer give it. He is not embarrassed or defensive. At the end of the evening, he wants to pray. And he prays for each of the thirty young men he has just met by name, and by country...

We love his stories, but they are discontinued as the Chattanooga Symphony begins its program - national anthem, of course, as jets fly over, then Sousa marches and songs from old musicals. A black soprano sings "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess. Breathtaking! As I listen, I continue to watch the crowds. I can't even begin to estimate how many people there are. I hear quotes of 50,00 to 150,000! Next, a bluegrass band takes the stage for several numbers. We are in the south, and their reception is warmer than that for the orchestra, though both are appreciated. Hope they don't mind!...At quarter to ten, the fireworks begin. Color and light and - sound! I wonder whether vets can sit through them...and those with heart arhythmias. How do they handle this? The vibration is incredible! Still, they are marvelous and we all - from the oldest to the youngest - have happy smiles and shining eyes as we watch.

As the evening ends, we are in a prime position to get over the bridge and back to the parking lot quickly. What a coup! What more could I ask for?... "All work and no play make Jack a dull boy." ... True. And this day has been a much-needed one day holiday for both of us.