From a man who not forget an important date:

I have always loved The Fourth. My family’s military history is not more recent than the Civil War so it is not from a large sense of martial pride. I revel in the rank patriotism that can still be found in this modern world. I find succor in the political incorrectness of the Battle Hymn of the Republic. I wallow in the festivity of fireworks, reminding us of none other than the “rockets red glare” and “the bombs bursting in air.” I line up Youtube videos of soldiers returning home to find their dogs in states of delirious apoplexy and take heart in earnest renditions of our patriotic music and speeches. That obvious patriotism aside, I have a much more important connection to the Fourth. I celebrate the first anniversary of my marriage to my wife on July 4th. There is nothing that could remind me more of the fruits of our great nation than the fact that the son of a Midwestern physician and lawyer, turned full time mother, could find his soul mate across thousands of miles, the daughter of a hairdresser and commercial fisherman turned paper mill worker in the Central Valley of Oregon. We were told by a neighbor who shares our anniversary that even though our anniversary date would be easy to remember that it would be an anniversary easy to forget. That, I think, is something we can live with, gladly.