I sat in my little folding chair under a tree, in the shade, as the largest July 4th parade in the state of Georgia ambled by, once again. The groups that pass are loosely organized and most participants take the term” marching” as a mere suggestion. It’s very sweet. However, every so often there’s a bona fide marching band — left, right, left, right, in unison. Sharp raising of the instruments perfectly together. With members standing tall and clean and pressed and proud. The steady staccato beats of the drum and piercing sounds of the trumpets bring out every clap and toe tap in the hot and sweaty crowd. And for one brief moment, we are together — left, right — as a nation.