The silver lining of this year's quick wheat harvest was that it allowed Marc and I to get away from the farm for a few days over the Fourth of July.

As America celebrated its 250th birthday, many people traveled to quintessential patriotic destinations like Boston, Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. Having celebrated Independence Day in Washington several times — including attending the White House celebration while interning for President George W. Bush — I understand the appeal of marking the holiday at our nation’s capital.

But this year, there was only one place I wanted to be: the place that first made the Fourth of July my favorite holiday.

My hometown of Pittsville, Wis.,, has a population of roughly 800 people, yet several thousand visitors arrive each year for the parade, fireworks and community festivities. Though I've now lived away from Pittsville longer than I ever lived there, it will always feel like home. Nowhere is that more evident than on the Fourth of July.

A few things were different this year. Road construction altered parts of the celebration, and for the first time I can remember, the fireworks weren't held on July 4. Instead, they followed the Heart & Sole race on July 3 because of a scheduling conflict.

The Heart & Sole race has been part of my family's Fourth of July almost from the beginning. My parents started volunteering during the race's second year as members of the Jaycees. When the Fire Department later took over organizing the event, they simply traded one volunteer shirt for another.

This year marked the race's 40th anniversary and they brought back the original T-shirt design from the inaugural race. One of my uncles, who is in his 70s is one of the handful of runners who has completed all 40 races, and he still has all 40  T-shirts to prove it.

That's small-town America. Organizations change. Volunteers get older. The names on the shirts are updated but people keep showing up.

The parade has changed for me, too. As a teenager, I liked to see how many times I could make it through the hour-long parade before it ended. My personal best was four or five times in one day.

Now, I spend the parade wandering instead. I walk from one group of relatives and friends to another, catching up with people I may not have seen in years.

Walking those familiar streets reminds me how much Pittsville's Fourth of July has shaped who I am. It has taught me that communities don't happen by accident. They exist because people organize the race, serve the burgers, direct traffic, clean up afterward and come back the next year to do it all again.

Those lessons started with my parents. There were no lectures about volunteerism or civic responsibility. They simply volunteered. Year after year, they showed me that if you care about your community, you pitch in.

That's why the Fourth of July has always been my favorite holiday. Yes, I love fireworks, parades and seeing old friends. But what I'm really celebrating are the small-town traditions that taught me patriotism isn't just about loving your country. It's about loving your community enough to help make it better.

Though the celebration in Pittsville’s has come to an end, its lessons are just like celebratory T-shirts. The dates on the shirts change, the lessons don't. Each Fourth of July reinforces the values of service, community and patriotism that my parents quietly modeled for me. I've carried those lessons with me everywhere I've lived. Just like a well-loved shirt, they are worn with pride, reminders of where I come from and the events that made me.