Rex Smith

Since the attempted assassination of former President Trump, there has been a lot of talk about unity, coming together across the divisions of American politics. Talk in the abstract, mind you – because, in reality, if we haven’t come together after the pandemic, and the inhumane war in Gaza, and Sandy Hook, well, there’s not much chance that we’ll suddenly be drawn to comradeship now.

It’s peaceful these days in our neighborhood on the edge of the farms and rolling hills of Rensselaer County, but last summer was a doozy. The kids whose family moved into a house down the hill were buzzing around on dirt bikes – just about driving us nuts from the noise. My wife teaches online and does a podcast from her home studio, and I’ll tell you that a lesser person would have become, you know, grouchy.

A lot us are ready to hit the road about now: According to dependable surveys, about 82 percent of Americans will travel this summer. In fact, the Independence Day holiday just past is always the busiest time of the year for travel.

We can thank John Adams for the fireworks this time of the year. On July 3, 1776, fresh from the vote approving the Declaration of Independence, he wrote that what he called the “Day of Deliverance” should thereafter be celebrated with, in Adams’s words, “Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations” around the land.

My neighbors are getting together for a midsummer barbecue this week, and as we gather around the grill, I plan to pass along this neat little fact: Americans eat more meat than anybody else in the world: about 219 pounds per person each year. FYI, we are closely followed by our fellow carnivores, the Australians and the Argentinians. Only about 5 percent of Americans claim to be vegetarian, and 3 percent take the label of vegan. Yes, we will not go gently if we are asked to hand over our Whoppers and Quarter Pounders With Cheese.

Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. Magicians don’t really snatch coins from thin air, make rabbits disappear or cut their assistants in half on stage.

For years, I’ve gone out for a ramble with my dog each morning. Some years back, when we lived deep in the country, I squinted across a meadow during our walkabout and thought I saw a wolf. Now, there are no wolves in our part of Upstate New York – I know that to be true – but humans sometimes aren’t good at recognizing reality. Reality, in this case, is that I was looking at a coyote. They’re sociable creatures, you know, and quite unlikely to attack if you’re bigger than a rabbit.

You wouldn’t figure a Scottish sociologist born in the middle of the 19th century would be the ideal author of a favorite bumper sticker in 2024. But the other day, when I once again saw that saying, “Think globally, act locally” on a bumper, I had to check it out.

About half of Americans live in the suburbs, which is how I would describe my Upstate neighborhood. And I’ll tell you, it felt like a slide into luxury when we came in from 15 miles further east about two decades back.

Perhaps you have never tried to photograph a pig. I have, so I can tell you that it’s not as easy as you may think if you’re unfamiliar with porcine deportment.