The Declaration contains perhaps the greatest sentence ever crafted by human hand

AMERICA’S 250TH — A GUEST ESSAY BY WALTER ISAACSON

When Thomas Jefferson finished a first draft of what was to become the Declaration of Independence, he sent it to Benjamin Franklin on the morning of Friday, June 21, 1776. “Will Doctor Franklin,” he wrote in his cover note, “suggest such alterations as his more enlarged view of the subject will dictate?”

For the next 10 days, the drafting committee made edits and tweaks. Most notable was the crafting of the soaring second sentence. Other nations had been born out of conquests and rebellions, usually based on tribal or religious identities.

But the United States was born out of an ideal, which they proclaimed in the memorable words: “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.”

It may be the greatest sentence ever crafted by human hand.

As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of the nation it brought forth, we have become increasingly polarized. But birthdays can be a time to put differences aside and celebrate, with gratitude, who we are. One way to lower the temperature is by appreciating anew the sentence that became our common creed and mission statement.

ON THE CALENDAR

No birthday party quite like a 250th. Americans will turn out this weekend in red, white and blue for barbecues, fireworks, parades and more in New York, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, Miami, Houston, Charlotte and everywhere in between. Happy birthday, America.

In the Big Apple, the “largest flotilla of the world’s tall ships” from more than 20 nations will sail down the Hudson through New York Harbor at Sail250. And down at Coney Island, Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest returns for its 111th year. The over/under, as always, is stomach-turning.

In Washington, the Capitol Fourth Concert — featuring Patti LaBelle, Kool & The Gang and the National Symphony Orchestra — joins the National Mall’s Great American State Fair and the Independence Day Parade down Constitution Avenue. A full dance card, even by D.C. standards.

In Atlanta, runners will fly down 10 kilometers of the Track Club’s Peachtree Road Race. And if you’re not fleet of foot, there’s a $100 gift card waiting for the best sign.

Out west, Festival Napa Valley’s summer season begins this weekend: operas, jazz orchestras and a culinary garden showcasing the best of Napa. No better way to spend a summer evening.

And on the pitch: the World Cup’s Round of 32 ends today, and the Round of 16 gets underway. Argentina faces the tiny but mighty Cape Verde; Canada and Morocco meet tomorrow; and Norway takes on Brazil Sunday.

And on Monday night in Seattle, the U.S. takes the field with a quarterfinal berth on the line. Not a bad way to ring in the next 250.

LETTERS FROM OUR READERS

For today’s special edition, we asked you about your fondest Fourth of July traditions. Here’s what The Tea community said:

My mom’s birthday was July 4, 1924. She always was a proud Yankee Doodle Dandy and a proud American. Dad, a WW2 vet, would always dress in red, white and blue from his hat to the socks every 4th of July for both the country and his wife. It was always bbq, family and whoever stopped by. Fun times that we still honor!

—Doug L., Charlotte, North Carolina

Every 4th of July my Dad, along with his fellow American Legion cronies, started the day with a flag raising ceremony in the town center-then, they all marched in the town parade and finally finished the day with the town fireworks. They did this tirelessly and with much pride year after year. These true blue real patriots taught me all I needed to know about being an American. Memorial Day, 4th of July, and Labour Day this group of Americans taught the entire town that being a proud American wasn’t about wearing red, white and blue or yelling at the top of our lungs, but rather quietly taking care of those who might need a helping hand. They’re all gone now, but the memory of what they did has stayed with me all of my 78 years. Happy Birthday, America!

—Anonymous

One of my most cherished memories is of my dad on July 4, 1976 — America’s Bicentennial. As a skilled pyrotechnician, he was entrusted with creating the fireworks display from a barge just off the coast of Long Beach, California. It was a breathtaking show that lit up the sky for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of spectators.

Standing there watching, I couldn’t have been prouder. Seeing my father’s talent and hard work bring so much joy to so many people is a memory I’ll carry with me forever. He loved this country and took great pride in celebrating its history that day.

P.S. He was a lifelong Democrat, and knowing him as I did, there’s no doubt he never would have voted for Trump.

— Roseann H., Canoga Park, California

As a child every year my small mountain community of Crestline in Southern California would hold a parade and I was so excited that I finally was able to ride my horse in it, much to my mother’s chagrin because she walked next to me!

—Kelly M., Temple, Texas

One 4th the parade was held in Houlton, Maine, and it snowed that day.

—Johnny L., Norwich, Connecticut

July 4th, 1976, found me in Zurich, Switzerland celebrating the holiday with other Americans working abroad. Some of my new friends were from the American south and some, like me, were from the north. The highlight of the evening was walking through the streets singing competitively, at the top of our lungs “I Wish I Was in Dixie” and “Yankee Doodle.”

— Monique N., Branford, Connecticut

Visiting the Gettysburg National Park on Independence Day 2025.

Outside of an active-duty military base, there is only one place I can think of where you will consistently see license plates from every corner of the country. Our national battlefields. Blue states and Red ones. East Coast and West Coast. Midwest ‘flyover states’ and Massachusetts. The apparently well-off and those who are probably struggling.

But, in some way, Americans who visit are on the same path of trying to understand why and who they are; not as themselves necessarily, but who they are in the big, collective puzzle of being American.

Where else do you see a rusted-out truck from the Midwest parked next to a brand new BMW with New York plates? Or a Mississippi big rig driven by a cigar-toting Southerner with a Confederate flag in his window beside a minivan from New Hampshire, piled to the ceiling with kids, bicycles, and a stressed-out dad?

(I observe the dad has a brief and friendly chat with the Mississippian. He ascended Little Round Top, hands on hips, let out a deep breath, and observed the Valley of Death below him. I felt his stress ease away as if he had a renewed understanding of life and what’s truly important in it, given the great context before him).

People from entirely different corners, abilities, and wealth, standing on the same piece of land their grandfathers engaged in combat over. Our shared history. There is a quiet but sure power about these places, bringing Americans together every day. The ground remembers who we are. It’s time for us to as well.

— Adam B., Mount Pleasant, New York