Twenty-five years ago, I attended a Fourth of July parade in Boston that has stuck with me.
The head drummer of the colonial fife and drum band was a Black man in a Revolutionary War costume, his dreadlocks peeking from under a powdered wig. As the parade stopped to lay a wreath at the Granary Burying Ground where founding fathers John Hancock and Samuel Adams are buried, a man placed a small stone on the memorial, a Jewish tradition of remembrance. A woman in a colorful sari marched alongside the parade as it continued toward the State House.
