On the evening of July 3, I and 69 million other Americans who get Social Security benefits received an email “celebrating the passage of the One Big, Beautiful Bill, a landmark piece of legislation that delivers long-awaited tax relief to millions of older Americans.” That email, hailing President Trump’s budget reconciliation bill that had just been rammed through Congress with no debate, was from the previously nonpartisan Social Security Administration.
The notice declared that the law “eliminates federal income taxes on Social Security benefits for most beneficiaries.” That statement is false. The law gives a temporary tax deduction to some people over age 65 but does not eliminate taxes on benefits. And the message neglected to mention the increased risk to Social Security’s solvency, or that our savings may be needed to pay increased costs of health care and our grandkids’ college education — all resulting from this deeply unpopular bill.
But the timing was perfect: July 4th. Americans were thinking about cookouts, cold beer, and fireworks, not about the implications of this frightening legislation.
I wondered if it might put a damper on the Fourth for anyone else. So, I got on my folding bike and pedaled to Orleans, knowing I’d find the largest parade on this part of the Cape. I was not disappointed. Floats, antique cars, bands on flatbeds, and sharks — lots and lots of sharks — marched past 5,000 revelers decked out head to toe in red, white, and blue.
I approached an older gentleman in a folding chair and asked what he thought of his Social Security notice. He hadn’t checked his email but said emphatically that he thought the budget bill was great. “What do you think is great about it?” I asked.
He paused and said he would have to think about that, as he’d never been asked the question. I inquired if he knew what was in the bill. “Not really,” he said, “but I’m a Republican, so I support it.” He went on to assure me that tariffs would be the best thing to happen to America in a long time.
A second spectator told me she had received the email. Before I could finish asking how she felt, she declared, “Outraged — absolutely outraged,” and went on to say that she had already donated whatever she might save in taxes to a charity that supported people in need.
Over the course of the morning, I spoke with paradegoers on both sides of the fence and felt comforted that more were opposed to the bill than supported it. They expressed fear for the future, concern for the environment, and worries about their children and grandchildren. A retired doctor who said he often asked for payment in seashells from children whose parents had no insurance added that he was terrified for the millions about to lose access to health care.
I couldn’t quite reconcile the apparent contradiction: people wearing patriotic colors and waving flags while living under a president with the autocratic temperament of King George III.
But the last onlooker I spoke with had a simple and clear explanation. Asked how she felt about America the day the Big Beautiful Bill became law, she paused for a long time, shrugged, and answered, “Well, everyone loves a parade.”
She had a point. The antique cars were polished and pristine. The imitation sharks were goofy enough to make you smile. And everyone lining Route 6A was in a good mood.
As an endless supply of candy flew from the trucks and floats, the youngest members of the crowd, pails in hand, battled over the bounty, unaware that their future had just been mortgaged to the tune of $3.3 trillion.
I put in my earbuds, turned on a playlist of protest songs — Tracy Chapman, Jefferson Airplane, Bob Marley — and cycled home, hoping that maybe, when those candy-loving kids grow up, July 4th might offer them something more to love about America than a parade.
Edward Boches lives in Brookline and Brewster.
