When we were first married, my husband and I celebrated our honeymoon with a three-month road trip through all 48 contiguous states. We called it our “Looking for America” tour because we wanted to see not just the country, but the people who make it what it is.
Nearly 20 years later to the day, this summer, with our 10- and 6-year-old daughters in tow, my husband suggested another adventure—traveling to Washington, D.C., for America’s 250th birthday celebration during the July 4 holiday.
Admittedly, I thought he was crazy. It sounded dangerous, crowded and unbearably hot.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was an opportunity we might never have again.
So we packed the car and headed east.
Three days later, after winding through the rolling hills of Tennessee and the Blue Ridge Mountains of Kentucky, we settled into a small apartment in Virginia, just a 30-minute Metro ride from downtown Washington.
Dressed in red, white and blue (yes, we were that family), we stepped off the train at Union Station not knowing what to expect. Would the city be wall-to-wall people? Would security be a nightmare? Had we made a terrible decision?
My worries quickly faded. Union Station wasn’t overcrowded, and the people we encountered looked a lot like us—families and visitors dressed in patriotic colors, eager to experience the city’s history.
Outside, we found a city blanketed with security. National Guard troops, D.C. police and Secret Service officers were everywhere, yet every one we met was friendly and welcoming. Road closures turned short walks into long ones, and a brutal heat wave—with temperatures reaching 104 degrees and a 114-degree heat index—made every mile count.
Over the next two days we toured museums, monuments, memorials and Arlington National Cemetery. We warned our girls that not every stop would be exciting. This trip wasn’t about what was happening today—it was about what had happened centuries ago to help shape where we are today. I was happily surprised when they embraced every minute of it.
That contrast between past and present became the theme of our visit. Everywhere we looked, history and the present stood side by side. We walked where John Quincy Adams’ desk once sat while today’s state representatives worked just down the hall. At the Arlington Cemetery, Civil War graves overlooked today’s Changing of the Guard. At the Smithsonian’s Air and Space Museum, the Wright brothers’ airplane sat just steps from Neil Armstrong’s spacesuit.
The city constantly reminded us where our country has been and -- through perseverence, ingenuity and determination -- how far it has come in 250 years.
Before we arrived, I wondered who would be in the city that weekend. Northerners or Southerners? Republicans or Democrats? Trump supporters or critics? Instead, it was simply Americans. I know this because I watched strangers from different states engage in a spirited but respectful political debate (which I found encouraging).
By our third day, Washington had begun filling with visitors for the weekend’s festivities. The National Mall hosted the Great American State Fair, where every state showcased what made it unique. As a Texan, I was proud of our exhibit, complete with the Alamo, Cadillac Ranch, honky-tonks, NASA and Big Tex.
That evening we attended the live taping of A Capitol Fourth, a patriotic concert featuring musical artists like Chicago, Kool & the Gang and Patti LaBelle (aired on PBS). Sitting on the Capitol lawn among hundreds of thousands of people, all dressed in red, white and blue, listening to patriotic music under the summer sky, was an experience I’ll never forget.
But it was the Fourth of July that became the heart of our adventure.
That morning we visited the National Archives to see the Bill of Rights, the Constitution and—most fittingly—the Declaration of Independence. Seeing those documents on Independence Day was surreal.
Then we joined the hundreds of thousands of people lined up for the evening celebration at the Washington Monument. After waiting for hours in triple-digit heat, lightning forced an evacuation just as we neared the gates.
Suddenly, orderly lines became crowds with little direction. We sheltered with strangers, watched weather updates and hoped the event would resume. When it finally did, confusion over the entrance routes sent thousands of us backward, leaving us farther from the gates than when we’d started.
Tempers began to fray among the throngs of people, all packed together in close proximity in triple-digit heat. But what stood out most wasn’t frustration—it was kindness. People made room for a man in a wheelchair. Strangers helped a woman having a panic attack seek medical attention. National Guard members, despite the exhausting conditions, remained patient and courteous.
Six hours after getting in line, we finally passed through security. As we crested the hill, Lee Greenwood began singing “God Bless the U.S.A.” We found seats only moments before the president took the stage.
Somehow, after everything, we had made it.
At 45 years old, I’d never heard a president speak in person. What an incredible opportunity!
My favorite moment before the record-setting fireworks show was watching veterans (some over 100 years old) take the stage to be recognized. Then the military band struck up the music, and an incredible 40-minute fireworks display lit the Washington sky. Even a light rain couldn’t convince anyone to leave early.
The Metro, scheduled to stop running at 2 a.m., stayed open until every passenger made it home. Nearly 900,000 riders used the system that night. We didn’t get back to our apartment until after 3 a.m., but somehow we weren’t exhausted. We were energized by everything we’d experienced together.
After four days walking where history has been made, I left with an overwhelming sense of gratitude—for those who built our country, those who defended it and those who worked tirelessly to make this celebration possible.
I was proud of our daughters, who walked more than 30 miles in record heat with remarkably few complaints. And I was especially grateful to my husband, whose careful planning kept us safe and made every step of the trip seem effortless.
By the time we returned home, we had walked thousands of steps, endured crazy temperatures and spent hours in lines. Yet none of that is what we’ll remember.
We’ll remember standing where history happened. We’ll remember seeing the Declaration of Independence on the Fourth of July. We’ll remember hundreds of thousands of Americans—of every age, background and political persuasion—celebrating together. We’ll remember the kindness of strangers, the professionalism of those who kept everyone safe and the determination our daughters showed through every mile.
Twenty years ago, we traveled across America looking for what makes this country special.
This time, we found it in Washington, D.C.—not just in its monuments and documents, but in the people gathered there to celebrate 250 years of our nation’s story.
Years from now, we’ll be able to say, “We were there.”
And that’s a memory we’ll treasure forever -- one that will always remind us what it means to be proud to be an American.
Anyone interested in reading a more detailed account of our nine-day trip to the nation’s capital to celebrate America’s 250th over the 4th of July weekend may email [email protected]