In the Midwest, this week brought a phenomenal amount of celebration, likely shared by a majority of the country.  We may have celebrated the most consequential and important Independence Day in a generation.

This is much to the chagrin and anger of the woke revolution.  The foolishness, violence, and over-the-top America hating is officially backfiring.  The backlash has been simmering, but now a fuse has been lit.  And the fireworks shows, public and private across the nation, highlighted festivities the hard leftists can only wish were celebrating them; instead the celebrations, disparaged them.

And no, this was not a celebration forced by Trump at Mt. Rushmore.  Although he harnessed deep and patriotic feelings in the nation there, this did not begin with him.  He has often said this is not about him; this movement is simply one that he has been able to join, and connect with, to bring about a better America — to return America to its roots of greatness.  That was the slogan. 

But this is the story of the Midwest and its response to celebrating the Fourth.  Let me describe a visual of one such celebration.  On Friday, we visited a spot we have visited often, on a shallow sand bar, to anchor a boat — where swimming and just hanging in one of the more pristine, beautiful spots in the world for boating; where enjoying the water, along with the awesome view, is simply the norm.

We arrived, eight of us, four below the age of ten.  We were the second boat on the sand bar.  We anchored, then ate lunch at about one, and the kids began to swim off the sand bar.  Last year in July, we visited the same sand bar (we visit annually), and it got really crowded; I think six boats hung there last year to enjoy the excitement (more than witnessed in two decades).  But this year, the party started with an enthusiasm not seen before.  Boat after boat arrived, and within an hour, there were twenty boats anchored, most with more than six passengers per boat.  Ultimately more than twenty-five boats were tied up together that afternoon.

Surveying the groups, these were 95 percent young people, mostly thirty-somethings, with a lot of twenty-somethings there as well.  Many of the boats had American flags displayed, prominently, often more than one.  Many of the younger crowd were sporting bathing suits that were clearly meant to celebrate our country's independence, in red, white, and blue — stars and stripes, the clear sign of America and its freedoms being exalted.

I'm sure there were some there who did not share a pro-freedom, pro-America sense of patriotism.  Even so, none wore masks, so maybe, just maybe, the vast majority of the silent non-patriots on the sand bar were celebrating freedom in a way they couldn't understand.  But quite clearly, they all participated in the spontaneous and great celebration anyway. 

That's what it was: one of the finest impromptu mini-celebrations of life anyone has had the good fortune of witnessing and participating in.

Frisbees, water dogs, swimming, a tent erected in the water.  Boats moored, and anchored side by side, crowds socializing, enjoying each other's company, along with the serendipitous moment. 

That's what it was.  A glorious moment of celebrating life.  A genuine peaceful celebration.  A life-affirming burst of light, mostly coming from a younger generation, clearly desiring normalcy and beyond.  The embodiment of living the American dream.

The next day was the Fourth.  We attended a local, private fireworks show that had a bonfire on a beach.  There were at least six other fireworks celebrations we could see down the beach, ours had about fifty people, little kids to grandparents, with multiple thirty-something couples helping celebrate.  The fire lasted well into the next morning.  Anecdotally it was as fine an Independence Day celebration as possible during what appears to be the death knell of Covid. 

John and Abigail Adams would have been ecstatic — a new generation of Americans participating in the great celebration of freedom our Independence Day stands for.  They would have lauded this group in the new generation that had come to enjoy the fruits of the country we call America.  God bless the USA.

Our wonderful news media were not there.  Our wonderful news media didn't report on anything like what we experienced.  We all know why.  They were busy preparing themselves to report how divisive, dark, racist, and awful our president was at Mount Rushmore.

The transformation they reported on was in their dreams, part of the ongoing attempt to take down Donald Trump and his awful, deplorable, terrible, no-good supporters.  The transformation the media exalted would be the tearing down of the American flag, or demonstrators complaining about something, anything, so they could report just how bad everything really is...well, according to them.

After all, nothing good could come from Trump or his supporters.  That is the self-serving observation of most reporters today, as well as the self-serving obligation they feel compelled to report, or should I say make up?  It is a sad transformation of a once prodigious fourth estate, which came from a still great First Amendment.

The shame is recognizing just how far the fourth estate has fallen.  It has transformed itself into the self-inflicted brand "fake news," meaning that these people manufacture a narrative that has little truth, little good to it, and is profoundly false.  So they didn't report the actual celebrations of our Independence Day — rather, they reported that the celebrators were, like Trump's speech, dark, divisive, racist, and ugly. 

Two Americas (thank you, John Edwards!).  Two transformations.

The one America (hard-left media) just yelled at everyone to get off their lawn.  The one America made up just how awful everything is.  The one America had become a caricature of every bad villain, of every movie known to the human race.  Think Scar from The Lion King, or Gollum, or the Joker, Riddler, Lex Luthor, Potter the banker, Scorpio of Dirty Harry fame, the Grinch, Black September.  Of every villain in every novel or play ever written.  Iago, Lady Macbeth, Nurse Ratched, Hannibal Lecter, Uriah Heep, Dr. Frankenstein.

You think I'm exaggerating?  Just consider the nastiness of every press conference since Donald Trump was elected.  Then ask yourself just how long it has been this bad.  Almost the exact same bunch fawned over Barack the Sainted One, sending syrupy, sappy questions, virtue-signaling goodwill toward him, totally unaware of who they are.  Self-unawareness to the max.

Yep the transformation is complete — from teddy bears to jackals without knowing it, in a few short years. 

In the real world another transformation continues.  It's not all sand bars and celebrations of the Fourth.  But it's real.  Transformation two is in front of the eyes of the hard left, the jackals from transformation one.  Transformation two is people living their lives productively.  Exalting and forwarding their families.  Furthering a good career. Adding to their communities and churches.  Helping out where they can and when they can.  They celebrate the country they live in, appreciate their freedoms; they celebrate life as Americans.

America is becoming great again, climbing out of the COVID hysteria, and moving on to better things.  To God be the glory.  It's why this past Fourth of July was so awesome.  The transformation continues.

Meanwhile, the jackals bay and snarl.  They can't help themselves.  It's who they are.