Dad's Grilled Burgers on Independence Day

Dad's favorite holiday tradition: grilled burgers with homemade special sauce and memories that last a lifetime

My dad loved to grill.

Hamburgers, hot dogs, bratwurst.

Always on the Fourth of July.

He never missed an opportunity to roll out the grill on his favorite holiday of the year. Our family would pack up and leave the house early in the morning to snag a spot at the Huntington Beach July 4th Parade. Four hours later, we’d make our way home, pull out the slip ‘n’ slide, change into our bathing suits, craft a cocktail, or pop open a beer. Then my dad would fire up the grill.

His grilling style was all about simplicity and flavor. He had no interest in all those fixings we’d prep for the meal. Not a fancy guy, he liked his burger with a toasted bun, pickles, and ketchup. I like all the extras so my burger is always piled high with cheese, fruit, veggies, special sauce, briny and crunchy, and impossible to eat without a bib!

James Philip Blair

BIRTH 12 JAN 1940 • Los Angeles, California, USA

DEATH 9 DEC 2020 • Carmel Valley Village, Monterey, California, USA

My dad’s heritage traces back to England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland, with a possible connection to the Cherokee Nation, but that’s another story.

An American celebrating Independence from the very British Isles heritage he descends from! His ancestors either supported the Crown or fled from it. If they came to the States, I assume they were seeking a better life. Still, we likely have a bit of insurrection in our blood. It’s also possible our ancestors arrived to fight for the Crown. Any way you spin it, here we are.

My dad believed so strongly in the United States of America, that he chose the Fourth of July as his favorite holiday!

He served as a Sergeant in the Marine Corps Reserves. He committed to a career in Aviation that took him from North American Aviation to the Space Division of Rockwell to Boeing. He had SECRET clearance from the Air Force that his family was never aware of until curious men in white short-sleeved shirts and black ties, a pen pinned in their shirt pocket and a clipboard in hand, walked our neighborhood knocking on doors. It didn’t faze my dad, but my sisters and I were fascinated. We crawled into the windowsill of our bedroom, watching as they inconspicuously went from door to door. Well, not very inconspicuously in that smart outfit in the middle of a beach-side neighborhood!