Independent of what really?

This is a newspaper column by publisher Chris Evans, published in The Press last week just ahead of the July 4 Holiday Weekend.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m mighty fond of fireworks, grilled chops and a cold drink on the Fourth of July. But if you’ll humor me a moment, let’s reflect, not just celebrate. It seems to me that somewhere between dumping tea in Boston Harbor and thumbing reel after reel through a smartphone, we’ve traded liberty for a comfortable leash.

We told King George to shove off back in 1776 with ink, powder and prayer. Ironically, he was the only absentee ruler we’ve ever known. Imagine you at 18, home alone with mom and dad on vacation, and you decide to invite grandma over for the weekend. The noose just gets tighter.

Americans decided we’d chart our own course with a boss closer to home. Fast-forward to today, and here we are calling Uncle Sam like helpless children every time it floods, snows or we forget how a budget works. One hiccup from Mother Nature, and the FEMA hotline lights up like a Chick-fil-A drive through when the theater lets out.

Now I’m not suggesting government doesn’t have its place, it surely does. Roads don’t pave themselves and I do appreciate that man with the badge when things get squirrely. But we’ve become a people addicted to rescue. Got a crop failure? Call the USDA. Need broadband in the holler? Beg a grant from the FCC. Something’s in the air. Who has the number to EPA?

And I say this as a man who enjoys the AC in July and August, not as a doomsday prepper with a bunker full of beans. Although my Boy Scout motto does urge preparedness.

Truth is, we’ve mistaken convenience for freedom. Take that glorious moment when we first snatch the car keys at 18. Lord, we think we’re free as a bird. But within a week, we’re tied to a gas pump, haunted by insurance premiums and wondering why tires cost more than a month’s rent. We wanted independence and got a payment plan instead.

Our ancestors carved out a living with little more than grit, faith and a stubborn mule. Today, we panic if the Wi-Fi blinks. We’ve grown so cozy suckling at the warm teat of bureaucracy that we’ve forgotten how

to plant a bean, fix a hinge, shovel some rock into a pothole or make it through a week without overnight shipping.

I ain’t saying we should all go live off the grid and bathe in creeks, although I know a few who do and smell no worse for it. What I am saying is this, true independence requires discomfort. It demands effort. It insists that we sometimes figure it out ourselves, even when it’s easier to holler for help.

So this Independence Day, while we’re sipping sweet tea or swilling beers under the stars and thanking God for those who bought our freedom with blood and backbone, maybe we ought to recommit ourselves to earning it day by day, choice by choice. Liberty isn’t a gift you unwrap once a year, it’s self-discipline you live every day.

And if we don’t start practicing real self-reliance soon, we may wake up and find that we’ve handed the crown right back. This time not to a king across the pond, but to a bloated institution right here at home.

Chris Evans, a newspaperman since 1979, has been editor of The Press for more than 30 years and is the author of South of the Mouth of Sandy, a true story about crime along the Tennessee River. You can find it on Amazon or wherever books are sold.