There is a special kind of resilience in gathering under a 100-degree St. George evening sky. As the desert heat slowly relented into the amber glow of a southern Utah dusk, hundreds of neighbors came together at a local park for an official city semiquincentennial celebration. On stage, the Rebel Jazz Band—a beloved local favorite—performed an assortment of patriotic anthems and big band classics. In that open-air, intimate environment, there was no rush, no commercial gloss, and no partisan friction. Just music, shared smiles, free ice cream sandwiches, and a beautiful place to relax, enjoy, and reflect.

Massive stadium concerts, glittering fireworks spectaculars, and grand parades certainly played their part in the July festivities celebrating our 250th anniversary. Yet, these grounded, community-scale moments offer something unique and enduring that merits attention and participation.
The Uneasy First Half of 2026
Looking back at the broader landscape of early 2026, it’s hard to ignore the initial friction that characterized many nationally sponsored commemorations. Across the country, high-profile events frequently struggled with a subdued, hesitant level of public patriotism. Burdened by anxieties of ongoing conflict in the Middle East and a relentless wave of partisan politicking that seemed to overcome non-partisan mandates and efforts, the national mood felt strained. Grand government-sponsored events suffered from reduced participation against the backdrop of political strife.
To those of us who lived through the Bicentennial in 1976, the echo was unmistakable. Fifty years ago, America was staggering out of the long shadows of the Vietnam War and the Watergate scandal—an era defined by a deep-seated public distrust in governmental institutions. National unity felt like a forced slogan rather than a lived reality during the first half of '76.
The Grassroots Turnaround of 1976
Yet, history has a way of course correcting when it moves from the top down to the bottom up. Sometime around the turning point of July 4th that year, a remarkable transformation occurred. The narrative and organizational efforts were pried away from the national government and returned to communities, parks, front porches, and town greens. A marked, organic surge in grassroots commemorations bloomed in communities nationwide.
Local bands, community historical displays, and neighbor-led gatherings filled the vacuum left by cynically perceived national spectacles. What began as a fractured, hesitant year quietly transformed into a deeply memorable, resonant patriotic year, though it did not start out as such. It proved once again that patriotism in this country is not manufactured in a Washington boardroom or broadcast from a network television stage; it is in large part lived out in our communities, and in the harmonies of a local jazz band playing under the desert sky. This supports what Abraham Lincoln spoke of in 1863 when he said, “Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”
The parallels of 1976 and 2026 are rather striking in this regard. They remind me of a foundational truth: individuals and communities remain at the heart of our republic. Administrations change, political winds shift, and national institutions face trials of every description, but the heartbeat of the nation heals and becomes stronger when we gather face-to-face in patriotism (love for our founding principles), respect and unity.







