At this early writing – one pm – the bbq’s are already out in front of bodega’s, in people’s front yards, even on the stoops. People are stocking up in the supermarket – bags of kale, flats of chicken, cases of Coors LIght. The stereos and big speakers are out, competing for who can boom out what music the loudest. It is hot, muggy, the air sticking to the skin. Last night, coming home at one am, people were still out, drinking beer on their stoops, the kids letting off fireworks on the street.
Black America, or at least this corner of it, is ready to celebrate America’s birthday in full force.