I have a real honor today. I’m guest posting/visiting on a friend and fellow Tribe Writer’s blog talking all about family Christmas traditions. Won’t you join me on Joan Hall’s site (Joan Hall Writes) as we discuss Christmas and family? Hope to see you there!
We’re entering the third week of Advent. This week is called Gaudete Sunday. “Gaudete” (pronounced gow / dey / tay) is the Latin word for “rejoice” and this is the week priests wear rose-colored vestments and we light the rose-colored candle, because we are rejoicing reaching the half-way point through this anticipatory season.
This third week, the pink or rose candle is the Shepherd’s Candle, and it represents Joy.
As a matter of faith, of course I approach Christmas with a sense of joy.
As a romance writer, this season is no different.
Think of the joy a couple shares on that first exhilarating date. Or when they first say “I love you.” Or when they get engaged. Married. When they first move in together. When they first learn they’re expecting. That first doctor’s visit when they hear that rapid heartbeat, maybe even see a blurry image on a screen. When they hear that first cry, hold that sweet bundle in their arms. Take that precious baby home for the first time.
There is joy all around. Every first, every milestone. Every moment people choose to savor instead of squandering.
What joyous occasion are you looking forward to this season? What milestone are you celebrating? What everyday activity are you experiencing with a new sense of wonder instead of that same old sense of acceptance or dread? Why don’t you share your story here?
This is the second week of Advent in the church. Some modern conventions have a white candle in the middle of the wreath to be lit on Christmas Eve representing Christ’s birth, or even all white candles instead of the traditional purple and pink, but at our home, we use the traditional convention. That means we are lighting two purple candles.
This week is the Bethlehem Candle. Some say it represents faith, some say it represents love. It is indicative of the Holy Family’s belief in their mission and their trek to Bethlehem. I think a journey like that would require a lot of both.
As a romance writer, I could write forever on either subject: love or faith.
This is a beautiful time of year for love.
I know so many people who have winter weddings. There are many engagement stories at Christmas time. One in particular that sticks out is that of a friend of mine…Her boyfriend took her for a ride in a horse drawn carriage around the park (complete with sleigh bells), then stopped at one of their favorite places by the river where they had a spectacular view of the city, and while the snow fell, he got down on one knee and proposed. She said she always wanted an outdoor winter proposal because she grew up in Africa and didn’t have that kind of weather. She was enthralled by it and wanted a special memory in the snow. And despite that fact that he hated winter weather, he did it for her. That’s love for another. That’s faith in your relationship. That’s romance.
We could all use a relationship like that in our lives that demonstrates such commitment of love and faith.
How are you embracing love and faith as you prepare for this holiday season? Why don’t you share your story here?
It’s the first Friday of the month. You know what that means… it’s time for another installment of short fiction. (You can, at any time, find this work or any of the First Friday Fiction Features, by going to the My Work tab, clicking on Freebies, and selecting the story you wish to read.)
In the spirit of Christmas, I’m taking some liberties with a famous work of Mr. Clement Clark Moore. I’m sure you’ll recognize it. Happy Holidays, everyone.
Christmas Eve Perspective
Twas the night before Christmas, I was the only one up.
The only thing keeping me going was the caffeine in my cup.
The last month had been spent in a blur of congestion.
And I sat wrapping gifts pondering one crucial question.
My kids had full bellies and had gone to bed sated.
And it was the time of night that I most hated.
My husband had had his fill of fine family dining.
And had done a little too much of “fine family wining.”
He’d just “rested his eyes” and was now snoring.
A trait I didn’t find very adoring.
So I was wrapping all the presents and guzzling my joe,
When I saw something moving outside in the snow.
I stepped onto the porch for a better view.
The starry sky was clear, but a blustery wind blew.
I turned from the chill, then I looked back.
I swear it was Santa, complete with sleigh and sack.
I counted eight reindeer hitched to his sleigh.
And wondered who would believe my story when I told it the next day.
Without my phone, I’d have no photographic proof,
I thought maybe I could show someone the prints of a hoof.
I stood there and watched them, I’m not sure how long.
Santa was singing his deer a beautiful song.
I thought it must be how he gets them to fly in the air;
It’s not quite a carol, not quite a prayer.
But he sang his song, and he shook the reins,
And off they went by the tune of his baritone strains.
The stars twinkled, the snowflakes swirled;
Santa was gone, bringing joy to the world.
I turned to go back inside, resigned to do my work;
I had been acting like a complete and total jerk.
So what if I was the only one doing the wrapping?
Who cares if I would rather be in my warm bed napping?
These moments are fleeting. They come and go fast.
There’s no way in the world we can make them last.
The kids won’t know, nor will they care,
Who baked or shopped or wrapped, I swear!
I needed to stop asking why I was always stuck.
I needed to stop asking why I had such rotten luck.
I opened the door and dropped my jaw, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
What I saw inside the room was a Christmas Eve surprise!
Every gift was wrapped and tagged and placed under the tree.
And all the paper, bows, and tags were put away for me.
My husband slept soundly again; I woke him with a kiss.
“Thanks,” I said, and gestured, “for handling all this.”
He said, “I wish I could take credit, but it wasn’t me.”
And we heard sleigh bells ringing outside beyond the holly tree.
“You don’t think…” I whispered, stunned. “I mean—”
“Why not?” he said. “It wouldn’t be the first magical thing we’ve seen.”
He wrapped me in his arms, I snuggled against him tight.
“Merry Christmas.” He pulled me toward the stairs. “It’s going to be a good night.”
So the Month of Thanks is over, and we’re entering the last month of the year, which is interesting, because in my faith, we are entering the new year of our church calendar. Advent has begun, which, for those of you who don’t know, is not only the start of a new liturgical calendar, but is a preparatory season leading up to Christmas.
Advent is noticeable by the violet vestments worn by the priests, the evergreen wreaths found in the church and in many homes, and the three purple and one rose candle on the wreaths. The evergreen branches are significant because they represent immortality, strength, healing, and victory over persecution. The wreath itself is a circle, a ring; a shape with no beginning and no end, and therefore represents the eternity of God, the immortality of the soul, and the everlasting life found in Christ. The lighting of the candles represent bringing light, or Christ, into the world.
Each candle has a different designation. This first week, we light a purple candle—the Prophecy Candle. It is in remembrance of the prophets, particularly Isaiah, who foretold the birth of Christ. This candle represents hope.
As a devout Catholic, I embrace these tenets of my faith.
As a romance writer, what does all this mean for me?
Actually, this season is a beautiful time for romance.
- Sights: twinkling lights, roaring fires
- Sounds: soft music, crackling logs
- Smells: evergreen boughs, simmering spiced cider
- Tastes: mulled wine, hot cocoa
- Feelings: fur-lined gloves, hand-me-down quilts
Romance is all about hope.
- Hope that someone will understand what you want, what you need.
- Hope that your trust will be rewarded.
- Hope that your love will be earned. And returned.
Advent is about anticipation. Week one is about hope.
And romance is about both.
How are you counting down the weeks until Christmas? I’d love to hear about your plans and preparations.
It’s week three. If you’ve been following along, you know I’m emulating an idea a friend of mine gave me, and instead of doing daily brief posts on Facebook, I’m doing weekly posts here on my blog, discussing things I’m thankful for. (A regular reader got me hooked on the daily #ThankfulNovember tweets, as well.) Of course, the little part in my brain that insists on organizing things demanded I create categories for my posts, so I decided to take the four Mondays that I’ve devoted to regular posting and divide them into the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual things in my life that I’m grateful for.
**DISCLAIMER** Things covered this month are in no particular order.
Week three covers emotional things. It’s silly to list emotions. We’re all grateful for emotions (I would think). Instead, I’m going to list the things the evoke emotions in me:
- My family
- Crisp, sunny fall days
- A baby’s laugh
- The first blooms of spring
- Rainbows
- The smell after a rain shower
- My kids’ faces when they’ve succeeded at something
- Going home
- Decorating for the holidays
- The smell of cookies in the oven
I know many of these seem like physical things, but they all stir up feelings of hope and pride and… and… and that quintessential something that means all is right with the world. I could just name a bunch of emotions (love, happiness, joy, elation), but I’d rather you know what inspires them. And there are so many more emotional things that I’m thankful for but they aren’t springing to mind because I’m trying to think of them. Why don’t you help add to the list? What things inspire these feelings in you?
It has been (and is going to remain) a busy time for me. I had two different sets of visitors recently (my parents followed by my in-laws), I’m in the final stretch of my WIP, the print version of my first novel is about to be finished (the eBooks are already available), my daughter qualified for the district tournament in tennis (extra practices), my son’s birthday is right around the corner, and I’m leaving for a conference this week.
Craziness.
But life is boring without such events, whether you consider them treats (family visiting) or obstacles (carving out time to get work done). I wouldn’t change things for the world.
So when I sat down to compose this blog, I wondered what about my current life would interest you.
- Our families wouldn’t interest you. You don’t know them.
- My WIP is pretty cool, but I’m not sure what I can share about that yet.
- I’ve already droned on and on about my published novel.
- My kids and their events are likely more interesting to me than anyone else.
- And I’ll be telling you about the conference in another week, so…
Yeah. My life is hectic, but there’s really not much going on that’s worth sharing.
So I figured I’d give you a glimpse into what makes me… well, me.
My father’s heritage is varied, but my mother is 100% Italian. That, coupled with the facts that I was closer with my mother’s family than my dad’s growing up and that I married into an Italian family, makes that part of my heritage resonate with me. Yes, I’m 1/8 Irish, German, Scottish, and Swedish, but when people ask me my heritage, I say I’m Italian. And proud of it.
Many of you probably don’t know this, but October is National Italian American Heritage Month. It’s not advertised like some other nationalities’ months, but it’s important to me and my family. It’s the time of year set aside to celebrate the accomplishments of my ancestors.
I’ve noticed several people on the Internet comment that we should drop the hyphens and no longer be Nationality-Americans, but instead just be Americans. I couldn’t disagree more.
Our heritage shapes us, defines who we are. (tweet this)
The United States is called “The Great Melting Pot” because many nationalities came together to form one great nation. But just like in any recipe, the end result may be magnificent, but it wouldn’t have turned out that way without each separate ingredient.
The US is wonderful because of all the nationalities that formed it; not in spite of them. (tweet this)
We should celebrate the hyphens.
Some facts regarding Italian-Americans:
- Over 5.4 million Italians immigrated to the United States between 1820 and 1992.
- Today there are over 26 million Americans of Italian descent in the United States.
- Italians comprise the fifth largest ethnic group in our country.
- The greatest concentration of Italians is in New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania (where I’m from).
- After the bombing at Pearl Harbor, 600,000 Italian-Americans were branded “enemy aliens.”
- Over 250 were interred for over two years.
- More than 1500 were arrested.
- It became dangerous—and in some places illegal—to speak Italian, or the “enemy’s language,” resulting in a rapid decline of the use of Italian by immigrant families.
- The worst lynching in US history was of Italian-Americans in New Orleans in 1891.
- Everyone knows of Italian’s contributions in the arts and sciences, but here are some lesser known facts:
- 2 signers of the Declaration of Independence were Italian.
- 4 Italians fought in and survived the Battle of Little Bighorn.
- The Planter’s Peanut Company and its logo, Mr. Peanut, were designed by an Italian.
- Popular songs, like “Chattanooga Choo-choo,” “Lullaby of Broadway,” and “An Affair to Remember,” were composed by an Italian.
- The ice cream cone, the Big Mac, and the first shopping mall were created by Italians.
- The only enlisted Marine in U.S. history to win the nation’s two highest military honors—the Navy Cross and the U.S. Congressional Medal of Honor—was Italian.
- Countless singers, actors, and athletes are Italian-American.
Yes, I believe that Italians are responsible for much of American history. They’ve been productive members of the military, the sciences, the arts, and sports. They’ve been persecuted for their heritage and have enriched the culture in this country. It’s no wonder I believe in hyphens.
I am an Italian-American. And I’m damn proud of it. (tweet this)
In honor of National Italian American Heritage Month, and because I mentioned melting pots and food earlier, I’m going to include a traditional Italian recipe here. I have so many, it was hard for me to pick. So I’m posting something rich, sweet, and smooth—kind of like an Italian trifecta. Try it this month, you’ll love it. After all, if you believe we’re all brothers and sisters, then you must believe there’s a little bit of Italian in all of us. And if not, allow me to share a little of my Italian heritage with you.
Tiramisu
Ingredients:
- 7 eggs, separated
- 7 Tbsp sugar
- 1/4 c Kahlua
- 2 1/2 c mascarpone cheese
- 3/4 c cold espresso or strong black coffee
- 24 lady fingers
- 3 Tbsp cocoa powder or 4 oz grated unsweetened chocolate (I use the cocoa powder)
Directions:
- In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar with a standing mixer until pale and thick, about 5 or 6 minutes. Add liquor and mascarpone and beat until mixture is thick and smooth.
- Clean the beaters and thoroughly dry them. In another bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff and form peaks. Fold egg whites into the mascarpone mixture.
- Pour the espresso into a shallow dish. Dip a lady finger in, turning QUICKLY so that it gets wet but doesn’t disintegrate, and place it on the bottom of an 8x8x2 inch dish. Repeat until the entire bottom of pan is covered.
- Spoon half of mixture over ladyfingers.
- Repeat with another of soaked ladyfingers and cover with remaining mixture.
- Level surface with spatula then top with cocoa or chocolate shavings.
- Cover and chill for several hours before serving.
If you’re interested in more Italian-American information, visit The Committee to Observe October as Italian-American Heritage Month site. There you will find a lot of information, including the 31 Days of Italian-Americans list (one name for each day of the month).
So, are you part Italian? Do you have a story or recipe to share? You know the drill…
Today is a special day for me. It’s my 18th wedding anniversary. I looked through my wedding album, trying to find a photo to share, and I noticed how many things have changed.
Definitely my appearance. And my husband’s. Everyone’s, really.
And I have to say fashion has improved. As have hair styles.
I remember when I was planning my wedding. Nothing ended up being the way I expected. I didn’t like my gown. I let my bridesmaids choose their gowns, as I wouldn’t have to wear them. I didn’t like their choice, either. I did like the flowers I chose, but the florist got the order wrong, so I didn’t have what I wanted. The hotel was good, but way overpriced. Thankfully my parents covered the reception, because we invited far more people than I wanted. Between my husband’s family and mine, I think the whole town was there. (Italian weddings are known for being big, but 500 people on the invitation list? Crazy.) The DJ played some music that I hated. Forget about giving a play list… I should have given him a don’t play list. The videographer was terrible, but the photographer was good, though, and you can’t tell things weren’t what I wanted.
Why do I remember all this?
Actually, usually I don’t.
What I typically remember is being surrounded by family and friends who loved us, who celebrated with us. Joyously.
Looking back, it doesn’t matter that plans fell apart. (tweet this)
It isn’t important that the material things were wrong. (tweet this)
What matters is that I married a man I loved with all my heart and soul. A man I love today even more.
Looking through the album is bittersweet. Some of the pictures are poignant because of who wasn’t in them—the beloved family members who had passed on before our wedding. Some pictures remind me of the people who were there that we since have lost. Then there are the nieces and nephews who were tiny children then… the same ones who are now adults.
Time marches on. Someday some family member will be looking through his or her album and remembering when my hair was long (and brown), or when my husband had hair (I sure hope he keeps his), or when my kids were still in school. I hope they can look at their albums then the way I look at mine now—not disappointed over the breakdown of plans, but with fondness. Happy because they married their soul mate, because their loved ones were there to celebrate with them, because life is good even when plans go awry.
Eighteen years ago I married a man who I thought I couldn’t love any more than I did at that very moment.
And eighteen years later I laugh at how naïve I was. My love for him has grown exponentially with each passing day. And I imagine will continue to do so.
So today, I’m not going to offer writing advice. I’m not going to recommend any books to purchase. I’m not going to talk about the importance of social media.
I’m certainly not going to obsess over the things that went wrong.
I’m simply going to enjoy my family, and suggest you try and do the same.
So it’s upon us. Labor Day. The official end of summer. If kids haven’t returned to school yet, they will soon. The festivals are over, the picnics are done… Football’s starting!
Many of the national holidays we observe in the United States have a patriotic element. Memorial Day honors lost veterans, Independence Day the birth of our nation. We celebrate Flag Day, Presidents’ Day, Veterans’ Day. Labor . .Day, however, celebrates the working class.
There is debate as to who first proposed a day set aside to honor America’s laborers. Some credit Peter J. McGuire, general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a co-founder of the American Federation of Labor. Others give the distinction to Matthew Maguire, a machinist and secretary of the Central Labor Union in New York. Regardless of who first conceived of the holiday, it was the Central Labor Union who adopted a Labor Day proposal and planned festivities for the day. On September 5, 1882, the first Labor Day was celebrated in New York City.
More than one hundred years later, we are still honoring the toils and sacrifices of our labor force. There will be parades and picnics, festivals and fun.
And then it’s back to work.
I had a productive week last week. And have a huge workload waiting for me. Instead of working on Labor Day, though, I’m taking a break and relaxing with my family. With school in session and the demands my husband’s job place on him, it’s virtually unheard of for all four of us to be home on a weekday. So we’re going to make the most of it.
If you find yourself with some down time this Labor Day, maybe you’d like to read some classic literature depicting the lives of the working class.
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck is a story of tenant farmers who lose everything during the Great Depression and set out for California in search of a livelihood, and more importantly, in search of their dignity. After suffering several losses on the way, they arrive out west only to discover there is little work, and even fewer rights for laborers. The story ends by showing how the family functions in the face of adversity.
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Babbitt, by Sinclair Lewis, is a portrait of the industrial city and the businessman. The novel’s main character is described by The 1930 Nobel Prize committee as “the ideal of an American popular hero of the middle-class. The relativity of business morals as well as private rules of conduct is for him an accepted article of faith, and without hesitation he considers it God’s purpose that man should work, increase his income, and enjoy modern improvements.” The protagonist is a realtor who becomes disillusioned with his life and seeks to improve his lot through a series of relationships and travels. In the end, he returns to the life that he thought was unsatisfying.
The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair, is a story of the hard-working immigrant and his sacrifices while looking to achieve the American Dream. It focuses on two major social classes: the upper class, who are comfortable and corrupt, and the working class, who are impoverished and hopeless. The main character hopes to care for his whole family, but as working conditions decay, they are all forced into labor. The combination of the upper class abusing their power and a series of accidents and tragedies lead to the main character’s ruination. Desperate to turn things around, he leaves Chicago as a hobo, but finds things no better on the farms where he tries to eke out a living. He returns to Chicago and is enticed by the socialist movement. He eventually is employed by a socialist and resumes supporting his extended family, although they’ve all undergone significant change.
Are you spending the day with one of these books, or something else you’ve been waiting to get time to read? Will you be watching a movie, swimming, or picnicking? Something else, perhaps something unusual? I’d love to hear how you’re spending the day. Why don’t you share your plans below?
And Happy Labor Day!
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. -The Declaration of Independence
I love all holidays. Spring, summer, fall, or winter; holidays are always special. My husband is off work, the kids are home, loved ones gather, and millions of people slow down and celebrate the same event. Holidays unite people in a way that nothing else does.
Independence Day is one of my favorites. Without the actions of a determined group of people, I wouldn’t have grown up in the greatest nation in the world.
We have all year to debate governmental policies and economic platforms; Independence Day should be a day to celebrate our freedom, our unalienable rights, our liberty. And that’s exactly what my family will be doing this year, with a picnic and fireworks.
In honor of our Founding Fathers and the soldiers who gave us our great nation, I found a few “fun facts” about Independence Day to share.
1) The anniversary of our independence is not really July 4.
In a closed session of congress on July 2, 1776, the resolution of independence was approved, legally separating the thirteen colonies from Great Britain. Proof of that was found in a letter John Adams wrote to his wife: “The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.” So why do we celebrate Independence Day on July 4th? Because that’s the date printed on the Declaration of Independence.
2) All 56 men didn’t sign The Declaration of Independence at the same time. Officially, the signing occurred on August 2, 1776, when 50 of the men signed it. For the safety of the men, their names were kept hidden from the public for more than six months. If the independence movement had not succeeded, the signers would have been guilty of treason and put to death.
3) The Revolutionary War didn’t begin with the Declaration of Independence.
The Declaration of Independence wasn’t adopted until 1776, but the American Revolution began in 1775 and lasted until 1783. This epic battle for liberty culminated with independence for the colonies and the birth of the United States.
4) The first Independence Day celebration wasn’t July 2 or July 4.
Independence Day was first celebrated in Philadelphia on July 8, 1776. In America, before the revolution, colonists would hold annual celebrations in honor of the king’s birthday. In 1976, colonists celebrated independence by holding fake funerals for King George III, symbolizing America’s liberty from Great Britain. Early Independence Day celebrations also included concerts, bonfires, parades, and canon fire.
5) Parades and fireworks mark Independence Day because of John Adams.
In the same letter John Adams sent his wife, he went on to say: “It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations [fireworks], from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.”
6) A standard flag was created to avoid confusion.
The reason a standard flag was even suggested was because colonists were all creating their own emblems as symbols of independence from Great Britain.
- One was a British Union Jack sitting in the upper-left corner of a red flag with the words “Liberty and Union” (in white) adorning the field’s lower half.
- The Sons of Liberty (famous for the Boston Tea Party) operated with a simple flag sporting alternating red and white stripes.
- Another popular design was a coiled rattlesnake on a yellow or red-and-white striped flag emblazoned with the words “Don’t tread on me.”
- Immediately before the Declaration of Independence, the most popular flag of revolution was the “Continental Colors.” This flag displayed a Union Jack in the upper-left corner on a field of red and white stripes. That particular flag created confusion in battle. Because of the presence of the Union Jack, sometimes revolutionists were mistaken for the enemy, prompting the June 14 resolution creating a standard flag.
7) The flag’s first design was unspecific; standards were adopted later.
On June 14, 1777, the Continental Congress passed the country’s first flag law. It was a brief resolution, but lacking detail: “Resolved. That the flag of the United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation.” The law said nothing about the flag’s shape or size, nor did it direct the order of stripes or the size, type, or arrangement of stars. The Continental Congress adopted the first flag as a sign of national pride and unity. Flag standards were set on June 24, 1912 by an Executive Order from President Taft. For the first time, there were specific proportions given and directions for the arrangement of the stars (at that time, into six rows of eight).
8) The flag colors of red, white, and blue were never given specific meaning.
Charles Thomson, the secretary of the Continental Congress, was one of the designers of the Great Seal of the United States. In his report to Congress on June 20, 1782, the day the seal was approved, he described the colors of the seal by saying: “White signifies purity and innocence. Red hardiness and valour and Blue . . . signifies vigilance, perseverance and justice.” That is likely where the flag’s colors gained their meaning, however, no such attribution was ever given to it. Historians believe the colors to have come from Great Britain’s Union Jack. Today, the interpretations are as follows, but are not official:
……….. Colors Meaning on the Great Seal Flag Interpretation
…………..Red Hardiness and valour Blood, war, and courage
…………..White Purity and innocence Purity
…………..Blue Vigilance, perseverance and justice Justice and freedom
9) The 13 stars on the first official flag were arranged in a circle, not lines.
While there was no official law mandating the arrangement of the stars in the field of blue, the stars were said to have been in a circle so no state would be above another.
10) There is no proof that Betsy Ross sewed the first American flag.
We’ve all heard the story that Betsy Ross was approached by George Washington with a sketch he drew and she then sewed the first American Flag. That story was first told to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania by her grandson, William Canby, in 1870, nearly 100 years after the event took place. His only evidence was testimonials from his family. There is no tangible historical evidence — letters, diaries, newspaper accounts, bills of sale — that Ross (then Elizabeth Claypoole) had any involvement in the creation of the flag. Does that mean that she didn’t do it? No. In fact, there are several patriotic organizations that support Betsy Ross at the first creator of the iconic symbol, stating that she’s a cherished part of American history and is synonymous with the flag’s creation. So who actually designed the flag, if not George Washington? Continental Congress journals show that patriot and New Jersey Congressman Francis Hopkinson was the flag’s designer. No evidence has been found specifying who first sewed it.
11) Uncle Sam was inspired by a real person, but not a patriot during the Revolutionary War.
The Uncle Sam symbol probably began in 1812. The US Army was being supplied meat shipments from meat packer Samuel Wilson. Those shipments had a “U.S.” stamp on them. Someone joked that “U.S.” stood for “Uncle Sam,” the meat provider. Eventually that joke resulted in Uncle Sam symbolizing the United States government.
So, how many of these facts did you know?
Did I miss any big ones?
Share your knowledge in the comments section below, and have a Happy 4th of July!
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