I grew up in suburbia, on the west side of Portland, Ore. My memories of July 4ths revolve around gatherings at our house with cousins and neighbors with the usual hotdogs, watermelon, strawberry shortcake and lemonade on the menu and the anticipation of sparklers and fireworks after dark. Our house perched on a small hill overlooking a cul-de-sac and boasted a commanding view of the fireworks shot off from Alpenrose Dairy a few miles away. Most of the neighbors who weren’t celebrating the holiday elsewhere ended up on our back lawn for the show. The grassy slope offered the perfect angle for stretching out and gazing up at the bursts of color exploding above the treetops. I enjoy those memories, but it wasn’t until I was an adult with a little girl of my own that I enjoyed the full experience of a true, small-town, old-fashioned Fourth of July.

My husband’s first high school principalship took us to Twin Falls, Idaho, in 1985. We were over 600 miles from our families, but by the beginning of our second summer there, we’d made friends with other young families like us, and with Sarah a precocious two-year-old, we planned to take in as much of the local flavor on the big holiday as we could. An hour before the local parade was to start, we had our spot staked out along one side of the central town park that offered necessary shade on a hot, sunny day. The parade begin with the whooping sirens and flashing lights of local law enforcement vehicles, and then as the color guard came into sight, we were nearly blown off our feet as a tight formation of fighter jets from Mountain Home Air Force Base thrilled us with a low fly-by. THAT is the right way to start a Fourth of July parade!

Now we both, born and raised in Portland, had witnessed that city’s famous Grand Floral Parade during the Rose Festival, so we thought we knew what to expect. Reality check: here in the land of famous potatoes, sugar beets and more bean varieties than I imagined existed, floats decorated with flowers were nowhere in sight. Instead, it seemed that every form of plowing, planting, fertilizing and harvesting equipment trundled down the street, and every farm within a fifty-mile radius seemed to have at least one entry. Of course, all the local schools were represented with a band, cheerleaders and drill team, but you can be sure that every grange, farmers co-op and equipment dealer took part, too. And here was another aspect of parade-going new to us: nearly every vehicle in the parade (even some of the poop scoopers) had at least one passenger who was tossing candy out to the kids perched on the curbsides. We cringed as tiny tykes darted towards the enormous tires of huge, unwieldy machines to grab the goodies, but everyone around us seemed singularly unconcerned. Luckily, Sarah was perfectly content with the pieces that bounced right to her feet, and we were spared having to restrain her from the rolling death seemingly mere inches away.

At last the final tractor had rolled past and we retired to our friends’ backyard for a traditional barbecue. The kids cooled off in the sprinkler and later collapsed for a nap on towels spread in the shade. As the sun dropped down in the sky, we loaded up blankets, coolers and lawn chairs and headed to the town of Buhl, about 12 miles west of Twin Falls. Although I’m sure a good portion of that part of the county’s population was in attendance, we had no problem finding plenty of room for our large group to arrange ourselves on the grass at the park. I found myself as eager as the kids for the fireworks to start, but the western sky seemed to glow with the vanished sun far later than it usually seemed to.

At last we heard the whistle and screech of a launched rocket and moments later were rewarded with a loud boom and an enormous wheel of light and color right above us. Everyone, young and old alike, cheered, applauded, oohed and aahed with each new explosion. Out there, as we sat in the midst of acres and acres of dark farmland, the stars seemed to drop right down and mingle with the multicolored sparks of the fireworks. Watching my little girl nestled in her daddy’s arms and seeing her eyes light up in wonder with each new flash gave me one of those perfect moments of complete happiness that present themselves to you when you aren’t looking. What a gift at the end of a wonderful, old-fashioned, perfect day.

 –Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader 

Last week, after a few meetings in NYC with Fran Gallagher, we met up with Alex Young at the recently re-opened The Plaza Hotel. I had never been in The Plaza before, but I had heard stories — who hasn’t? To be honest, most of what I knew about The Plaza came from watching Home Alone 2 — Lost in New York as a kid and, more recently, Bride Wars. Needless to say, I was eager to experience the legendary hotel firsthand.

After a glass of wine at the Oak Bar, we enjoyed a fabulous dinner in the Oak Room. My halibut and snow peas were delicious; and the room is really beautiful, with fantastic, intricate and ornate detailing. I must admit, I felt pretty highfalutin’!

July 12-31 is Restaurant Week in New York City, and my friend is urging me to meet her in the city for dinner at Union Square Cafe. It is always fun to discover great new restaurants in New York, especially during the fixed-price Restaurant Week special. Nothing like a first-rate meal at a budget-friendly price.

But, for now, my sights are set on hamburgers, hot dogs and the other food planned for tomorrow’s Independence Day picnic. Enjoy the Fourth of July!

–Kimberly Krol, eFlyer editor, circulation and public relations executive

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Happy Fourth of July, Global Travelers!  This weekend, millions of Americans will celebrate the country’s independence the best way we know how — the traditional American cookout!

Whether you are hosting the festivities or its your neighbor or uncle (maybe his name is Sam!), everyone knows what to expect.  Pigs in a blanket, BBQ chicken, hamburgers, kabobs, Mom’s potato salad, American flag cake — mmm! Why do we love cookouts so much? In my opinion, cookouts seem to epitomize the American way.  We like things fast, easy, tasty and in large portions.  If Christmas were in July, would we barbecue in our backyards instead of trimming the tree?

Grilled food is one of my favorites.  But I could eat grilled food on any summer day as long as I can find a grill and someone to cook for me!  What I really love about the Fourth of July are the fireworks.  Something about everyone focused towards the sky, oohing-and-ahhing at these celebratory explosions makes me excited.  They also bring me back to my childhood.  I remember feeling overly enthusiastic watching dinky little fireworks while sitting on a blanket in the local baseball field.  Last year I enjoyed a spectacular show from the East River just above the Manhattan skyline. This year, in honor of Henry Hudson, the show is moving to the Hudson River. Nothing beats it — not even pigs in a blanket!

–Courtney Centeno, account executive

Recently, I interviewed David Clyde, a former baseball phenom, whose path to success was delayed and altered, but never abandoned.  Clyde’s pro career never quite flourished, but he is enjoying success while helping others succeed.

In 1973, at the age of 18, Clyde won his major league debut.  Clyde was poised to become a star, mere months after a stellar high school pitching career.  The Texas Rangers, who had made him the No. 1 draft pick, planned to use this star for success in the standings and in attendance.

Unfortunately, plans don’t always work out.  Clyde encountered some arm trouble and poor management within the Rangers organization.  There were accusations and questions. Surprisingly (and very refreshingly), Clyde doesn’t really care about negative questions, but he is by no means a Pollyanna.

“You can’t change the past, but you can learn from it and move forward,” explains Clyde.

Clyde hasn’t just moved forward, he is paying it forward, too.  Clyde retired from baseball in 1981, at the age of 26.  After years in the lumber business, Clyde settled in as a coach at the Miracles Baseball Academy in Houston.

He views his job as not only teaching the kids but protecting them as well.  He tries “to give them every opportunity for success, while [Clyde is] absorbing all of the pressure.”  Clyde knows about pressure.  Having jumped from high school to the big leagues, he felt his “talent had to make that jump also.”  He tries to teach his pupils to stay within themselves and not overdo it. This is merely one of the lessons Clyde passes on to his students.

“My goal is to steer kids in the right direction, give them the proper fundamental base, and hopefully they can enjoy the game better,” Clyde professes.

While Clyde doesn’t blame anyone for the path his career took, he does acknowledge that a better infrastructure within baseball would have helped.  Whenever a very young player is rushed to the professional level of any sport, people often bring up Clyde’s name, and he is happy about that.  Clyde hopes they realize they screwed up with him and that they will watch out for the new youngsters better.

Clyde is very committed to his students.  He knows they rely on him, and he is happy to be there for them.  He does all he can to prepare them for whatever the future holds.

What does David Clyde want for his future?  “Good health, a happy life, and I hope to continue passing on to kids what I have been passing on,” he says (although he does admit he wouldn’t mind being 20 years younger and making $23 million per year).

While Clyde won’t be signing that contract anytime soon, he will be adding “Hall of Fame” to his signature.  Tonight, at the Marriott on the Magnificent Mile in Chicago, Clyde will be inducted into the National High School Hall of Fame.  Clyde’s career will not be immortalized in bronze at Cooperstown, but his imprint is left on every student he teaches.

–John Wroblewski, distribution specialist

Advertising is all around us. It creeps into our subconscious without us even realizing — at least that’s the case with the cleverest of campaigns.  Branding images surround us at all times — on billboards when we’re driving, at the ball game, at movie theaters and even at bars (all those strategically placed signs for certain brands of beer!).

In tough economic times, ad budgets are usually one of the first items to be reduced or completely cut.  I find this unfortunate and not always in the best interests of a company.  When people are spending less money, it is critical to ensure when consumers are actually buying, they are buying your product. Advertising keeps products at the forefront of the consumer mind.

Of course, the trick is making sure consumers remember exactly what product they saw in the ad. I can think of two campaigns that make me remember the product — the HSBC Your Point of View ads (seen in airports around the world) and the Snickers campaign (seen all over the country).

The HSBC ad is usually the first thing I see when boarding and disembarking airplanes. The ads are on the walls of many jet bridges. It is usually two images, such as a high-heel shoe and a hot pepper. “Pleasure” would be written all over the shoe; “pain” all over the pepper. The next ad is the same two images, with the wording reversed.  I do not yet have an HSBC account, but when the time comes for me to look into new banking options, HSBC will be the top of my list to research.

The Snickers campaign is currently running on top of taxis in NYC. They are clever — characteristics of the Snickers bar are manipulated into words familiar to New York. For example, “Nougataboutit” or “Take a tour around Nougat York”. Every time I see them I laugh, and when I go into the convenience store craving chocolate, I am more inclined to buy a Snickers bar.

What is your favorite ad?

–Alex Young, vice president and associate publisher