Welcome back, my fellow `merikuns, from your Fourth of July holiday. Don’t you just love the Fourth? It’s the one day of the year when the citizens of the United States get to beat their collective chest with vigor and flip their collective bird over the vast seas. Yes, we have plenty to be ashamed of these days (thank you Bush Co.), but even the most cynical among us understands that we wouldn’t even have had the opportunity to elect the world’s most impressive dolt (twice) to the office of Decider were it not for the diligence, guts and massively flamboyant script of our founding fathers.

For those of you in secondary school and unfortunately devoid of an objective, fact-based education (did someone say evolution?), the Fourth of July commemorates this country’s adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, declaring independence from the Kingdom of Great Britain. You may be more familiar with the holiday for its excessive embrace of fireworks, parades, barbecues, carnivals, picnics, concerts, and various other public and private events celebrating the history, government, and traditions of the United States… and beer.

But this year I think we need to look back at the Fourth of July as an opportunity to see just how far we’ve strayed. In 1776 they celebrated independence. In 2008, we have very little independence to celebrate. Yes, our country’s government is ‘independent’ from Great Britain, but in today’s world, I’m far from convinced that this detail should bring us a considerable amount of comfort. After all, we’re dependent on everyone else for just about everything else. We’re so darned hooked into the global economy that it’s a joke to blast a bottle rocket in honor of our independence.

For those of us in Portland, many of us giggle at this notion… I mean, if any group of green fleece-wearing, cargo bike-riding locavores has the potential to be independent, it’s those eco-snobs in the Rose City. As I crossed over the Hollywood pedestrian bridge on my way to not-at-all local Trader Joes, the freeways were packed with my fellow stump-thumpers. Perhaps they were heading off to barbecues or family reunions, or firework shows in suburban Washington. Whatever the case, I envisioned that the selfish masses were off to pollute the sky with the patriotic bile created by millions of dollars of Chinese fireworks. Yes, my green-state brothers and sisters were far from independent as they blissfully sucked down smooth Saudi crude in their maybe US-built (but globally sourced), earth-menacing Griswald family trucksters.

Oh, it feels so good to be smug. I grinned ear-to-ear thinking about the joy of not driving an inch or planning to drive an inch over the weekend. Oh, the big tasty smug pie –how sweet it is. But wait, what was that I was preparing to toss on the grill? Oh nothing… just my central California-sourced portobello mushrooms. Oh, I can’t wait to wash them down with that bottle of smooth Mexican tequila. You know, the bottle I picked up using my German-built utility bike? You know, that bike that rolls on Kenda tires crafted with love in the People’s Republic of China?

But hey, I’m a real independent `merikun. I mean, at least I wasn’t going to burn those toxic Chinese fireworks. I would do the far more patriotic thing and toss a Taiwan-pressed DVD into my Japanese-designed plasma TV. You know, the one built in Mexico using parts from all over the world? Damn straight. I’m independent, baby.

After coming back to earth, realizing that Portland can’t insulate me from the truth of today’s independence, I sat down to appreciate the opportunity to consider how far I have to go, and how far this country has to go. But at least Portland has a head start. I only wish the race course wasn’t so damned long and treacherous. With this I sulked back into my lawn chair, chewing on a leaf of lettuce from last week’s CSA share. Thank goodness for opportunity. Thank goodness for independence.