A Fourth of July Reflection:
How Public Lands Connect Us
It’s the Fourth of July — a day marked by celebration, fireworks, and talk of freedom. But this year, I’m struggling to celebrate. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m not in the U.S., or if it’s the state of our country. I don’t like this feeling.
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I love the Fourth. I love a reason to celebrate. I love a good theme. And I love screaming at the top of my lungs to Toby Keith. But this year, I find myself reflecting less on the spectacle and more on the state of our country itself. Division is easy to see. We argue about almost everything — from how to teach history to how we define progress. The American experience feels fractured.
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And yet.
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Lately, I’ve been thinking about what still binds us as Americans — often quietly, sometimes fiercely: our public lands.
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Recently, there was a push to privatize millions of acres of federally owned land. It could have been just another political downturn lost in the noise. But something beautiful happened — people from all sides of the aisle came together to say, “These are our lands, and they are not for sale.” Hunters and hikers, ranchers and recreationists, conservatives and liberals — united not by ideology, but by a shared connection to place.
Because a mountain doesn’t care how you vote. Rolling hills of sage don’t care whether the boot prints belong to a shed hunter or a hiker. And wildflowers bloom in every color — not just red or blue.
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Living in Wyoming taught me that.
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It took time for me to understand this place. At first glance, it can feel remote and unwelcoming. But then you start noticing the things that keep people here: the mountains that graze the sky, the restless wind passing through the pines, and yes, even the quiet of a bitterly cold snowy morning. Folks in Wyoming have a quiet devotion to the land — not just as scenery, but as identity. It's a kind of love that’s hard to explain to outsiders.
Here, the conversation around public land isn’t about party lines. It’s about access, heritage, and the deep-rooted belief that these spaces belong to all of us — and to future generations. This belief extends far beyond Wyoming. And I hope each and every one of us — even those who feel most at home in a concrete jungle — can experience a piece of public land that feels like home.
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So on a day like today, when it’s tempting to dwell on the ways we disagree, I’m choosing to celebrate the spaces that remind us we’re more alike than we think. Maybe we don’t need to see eye to eye on everything. Maybe we just need to keep finding common ground — and protecting the literal ground that brings us together.
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The only way we move forward is by doing it together — even when it's uncomfortable. Especially then.
So here’s to the secret hunting spots, the game trails, the wild things and the wild places. Here’s to the land that reminds us we belong to something bigger than ourselves.
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Happy Fourth.