Fourth of July growing up in Texas was sticky. My cousins and I would start the day gathering our bikes, strollers, wagons—anything with wheels—and draping them in red, white, and blue to create a circle-driveway parade at my grandfather’s house. By 10 am, it was over 100 degrees, so we’d plunge our sticky selves into the pool and fill our bellies with watermelon and those special processed snacks that you could always count on from Pappaw…

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