Even as the sun seems to be setting on American democracy, there are moments of pure light that connect us.

Today, when life in these United States feels fraught with fear, divisiveness, and anxiety, a small exchange I had this past weekend seemed straight out of that long-running staple in Reader’s Digest, bearing the same name. “Life in These United States” was a regular feature of that once venerable magazine, offering small, heartwarming anecdotes sent in by readers that provided glimpses into their lives that made you feel good about being an American.

This past July 4th holiday weekend offered little reason to celebrate being an American. For many, it was a grim day filled with sadness, as our way of life was coming under attack. We all tried our best to self-soothe in whatever way we could. For me, spending the days at my small local Long Island beach offered the balm I needed.

At the end of the day on Sunday, I returned to the beach with my friend John to watch the sunset over the water.

The brigade of Tommy Bahama beach umbrellas were all gone now as the beach prepared for the second act of the day with a different cast of characters. Bottles of sunscreen were replaced with bottles of wine, as Chardonnay and Pinot Noir were uncorked in unison.  The sand was dotted with couples setting out cheese and crackers on portable plastic tables and families unpacking Tupperware dinners as children played in the waning sun.

We all had front row seats to Mother Nature’s most spectacular light show.

As the sun began its slow descent and the sky was bathed in yellow and orange light, the beach scene was cast in silhouette. Almost simultaneously, our eyes were drawn to a beautiful backlit tableau of a happy family that felt straight out of Norman Rockwell.

After John captured the heartwarming image of this family portrait on his iPhone, I thought it might be nice to share the pictures with them and let them know what joy it brought us watching them.

We walked over to this large, extended Hispanic family to share the photos. The father’s face lit up with a warm smile, thanking us in broken English. He passed the phone around to his wife, sister, and mother as the playing children came over to look. In 2 languages, we all acknowledged how beautiful and peaceful the beach was.

The dad spoke a bit about where he lived, how he worked in construction, and then his face fell as he shared how he was struggling with a father dying of pancreatic cancer.  As we empathized on the pain of seeing a loved one so ill, he remarked, looking at the gentle waves of the water, how life was all about ebbs and flows. In the silence,  the deep human connections were palpable.

I hugged them and they hugged me back.  

As the sun was nearly gone from the sky, this gentle man looked up at me and said quietly, “We are legal.” I had not even asked, but I knew that fact now made no difference in the America we had become. In the new reality of ICE, it is grab first, ask questions later. My heart hurt for the fear that must be a daily part of their lives.

Yet for that brief moment, I stood firmly in the America we once were. The America of compassion and connection and differences that were welcomed, and my heart remained happy. We exchanged phone numbers to text the photos, and he texted back, “God bless you.” It had made their day. Of course, it was I who felt very blessed.  

This felt like America to me. This was what July 4th should feel like.

America for all.

Photos: John Martin