In my family, the tradition of the Fourth of July is a cherished memory. While my father read aloud from P.G. Wodehouse, my mother supervised the children as we colored pictures of Sacco and Vanzetti that had been traced from a magazine. Today, my family and I blend in, I suppose. The morning of the Fourth we watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (subtitled) and then take a walk in the woods to a secret spot where a feast is prepared for our imaginary friends. As the embers fade from our campfire, each of us takes a turn speaking, singing or acting out his or her fondest memories of the day. It is comforting to know that my children will one day look back at this new tradition and realize that they know the real meaning of being an American.