However you celebrate Independence Day, Happy Fourth to you!

I take it for granted, and I think that many of my fellow citizens also do.

This Tuesday, July 4, is the 247th anniversary of July 4, 1776. That is the date that America’s independence from Great Britain was declared in a document authored by Thomas Jefferson, who later became the nation’s third president.

Independence Day has been celebrated ever since.

Fireworks have long been a big part of the party. There was a little lake just down the street from our house in my New Jersey hometown where the community’s volunteer fire department would set off traditional explosions and wonderful light displays in the sky above. Appreciative "oohs" and “aahs" always were heard from the gathered crowd.

At home, my twin sisters and I enjoyed our sparklers, thin metal wires about 10 inches long. When lighted with a match, the magical stuff — or so it seemed to us little kids — would shoot off countless gold-colored sparks in every direction. They would leave a line of light wherever they had been waved in the darkness.

My ancestors came from Ireland, Germany and Italy — a mix that is quintessentially American.

But one part of our annual celebration was a visit from a couple who lived about an hour further north. Olaf, originally from Denmark, and Impi, originally from Finland, had been friends and coworkers of my mother’s parents.

The men — Olaf, my uncle Jimmy and my dad — would spend the afternoon at the nearby Monmouth Park thoroughbred horse race track. The ladies — Impi, my aunt Mary, cousin Peggy, my sisters and I — would go to the beach.

Mom would be at home preparing what would become our own traditional holiday supper. No, it was not hotdogs and hamburgers. It was spaghetti and meatballs, served with my Italian grandmother’s delicious tomato sauce.

Years later, after I was married and moved to Maryland, I enjoyed the Coleman family July 4 tradition. The guys would have traveled to the airport to pick up at the live lobsters — poor babies — that had been flown in from Maine.

My celebration this year will be quiet. Just me and my patriotic tabby cat Louie. If I can find them, I will buy some sparklers for my own celebration.

I might raise a glass to Thomas Jefferson, to thank him for writing that so very important Declaration of Independence. In what seems a fitting but fairly amazing coincidence, Thomas Jefferson died July 4, 1826.

Happy, happy 4th of July!

More Kate: June is a love song, sweetly sung!

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: Fireworks, sparklers, picnics and fun — how will you celebrate?