depressing overheard conversations, part 912

Tonight, at the fireworks, a kid sat next to me on the wall by Town Hall. He was about nine, and his mother was with him. Shortly before the fireworks began, he asked, “Why do we celebrate the fourth of July?”

“Well,” his mother replied, “I’m not sure. It has to do with independence.”

“What’s that?”

“Hm. We’ll have to look it up when we get home.”

I am sad that I suppressed the urge to butt in and explain, now.

Written on July 5, 2005
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