When I graduated from high school in 1976, I was part of a student-written and directed play—a tradition at my school—called “The Montage.” Unlike other graduating classes, the class of ‘76 had our topic assigned to us: the American bicentennial. Our play was supposed to be patriotic and upbeat and cover the sweep of American history.

No one was particularly excited about this. The country was licking its wounds from Watergate and Vietnam, and patriotism felt passé, something that appealed to our parents but not to us. The most patriotic thing I enjoyed at the time was searching for fire hydrants painted as continental soldiers.

I feel the same “blah” emotions as the United States approaches 250 years in 2026. I guarantee there won’t be much honest reckoning with the country’s complicated history. Instead, I fully expect America’s 250^th birthday celebration to be yet another Donald Trump vanity project. I wish we could somehow just skip the month of July.

Does Anybody Really Know What Year It Is?

My problems are exacerbated because I’m constantly confused about what year it is. I think I’m living in 2026, but then I consider the SAVE America Act, which may well pass Congress sometime soon. Under the guise of keeping those wily “illegals” from voting, millions of people, particularly women and people of color, could be disenfranchised. I thought we settled these issues with the 19^th Amendment in 1920 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. One could get cynical and believe that in light of the looming midterm election, the problem isn’t non-citizen voting but non-white male voting, but who wants to be cynical? Is it 2026? Or 1920? Or 1965? (I might also note election security wasn’t an issue until Trump started claiming it was. Democracies should want to make it easy, not hard, for people to vote.)

A few weeks ago, I awoke on a Saturday morning and learned the United States was bombing the Middle East. Is it 1991? Or 2003? I hear echoes of Saddam Hussein’s “mother of all battles” every time Trump threatens Iran with “military consequences at a level never seen before.” (Why does everything with him have to be at levels never seen before?) I’m still trying not to be cynical, but Trump’s unprecedented levels of everything are unprecedented. Is Trump aware of the atomic bombs the United States dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945? In light of that, what exactly is he threatening to do in Iran?

You see how easy it is to be confused about what year it is. A while ago the Secretary of Defense announced that he wanted to be called the Secretary of War. We had one of those in 1789. Who does Pete Hegseth think he is, Henry Knox? Knox, George Washington’s Secretary of War, got a famous fort full of gold named after him. Anybody wonder what Fort Hegseth will be full of?   

And then there’s ongoing cover up of the Epstein files. As horrific and sad as that is, it brings to mind the Profumo Affair in Great Britain in the early 1960s. A 46-year-old British cabinet member (ironically, the Secretary of War) was having an illicit relationship with a 19-year-old woman. The young woman simultaneously was having a relationship with a high-ranking Soviet official. A London socialite at the center of the whole mess took his own life before having to testify in court. I’m sure you hear the echoes. Yes, I think, it must be 1963, but then I reflect on the fact that the British government was brought down by the scandal. Ah, those were the days, back when sordid behavior brought down governments. We’re stuck in 2026, where our sordid behaver-in-chief has been elected President twice (or three times if you’re inclined to believe his lies), primarily because of the support of evangelical Christians. (Step back for a minute and ask, “How can that possibly be true?”)

Which brings me to 1991 and the Conlon Collection baseball cards. Stick with me on this one. When everybody and his brother were putting out baseball card sets in the early ‘90s, The Sporting News got into the act and made a stunning set from archival photos taken by Charles M. Conlon. I love these cards and was looking at them a while ago with a fellow card collector who happens to be a physician. He said, “Do you know why the players look so old?” I’d never thought about it but he was right—and not just here but always in old photographs. People look old.  

“That’s what people looked like before vaccines and antibiotics,” my friend said. “These are the faces of people who have survived measles, mumps, whooping cough, polio, and dozens of other diseases that modern medicine has eradicated.”

Today’s anti-vaxers, led by Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., are making me think it’s the early 1950s. (Once again, step back and ask, “How is it conceivable that we live in a time with measles outbreaks?”) What every anti-vaxxer ought to be required to do is go to a retirement home and talk to people in their 90s about what life was like before vaccines. They ought to be made to listen to stories about the unbridled joy when Dr. Salk conquered polio.

It’s Still 2026

Despite the evidence, it’s not 1789 or 1920 or 1945 or 1955 or 1963 or 1965 or 1991 or 2003. It’s 2026 and we’re gearing up for America’s big 250^th birthday celebration. Many plans are being made, not the least of which is a giant Ultimate Fighting Championship event on July 4^th on the grounds of the White House. (Step back yet again and ask, “How can that possibly be true?”) Are we living in the days of gladiator fights in the Roman Coliseum? No, this is the United States of America in 2026. On the one hand, what’s more American than people beating each other senseless in the name of freedom and liberty? On the other hand, ick. (And why do I suspect Kid Rock will be singing the national anthem?) I’m not going to watch. I’ve got the semiquincentennial blues. If you need me, I’ll be out painting a fire hydrant.