I am a third-generation Wyomingite. My paternal grandfather was a Yale graduate who began his career as a geologist for Ohio Oil, traveling across Wyoming on horseback in search of promising oil fields. He and my grandmother were married in Laramie, Wyoming, and my father and uncle were both born in Casper, as was I. In fact, I attended the same schools as my dad and uncle. My family’s roots run deep in Wyoming, and our love for the state has been passed down through generations.
Wyoming became the 44th state in the Union in 1890. It has long been known for its strong sense of patriotism and service, with a significant portion of its population serving in the U.S. military. Wyomingites also take their civic responsibilities seriously. The state earned the nickname “The Equality State” by becoming the first territory and later the first state to grant women the right to vote, a legacy that remains a source of pride.
During the Bicentennial celebration in 1976, I was a new mother, having just completed my sophomore year of college. Laramie embraced the nation’s 200th birthday with enthusiasm. The streets were draped in red, white, and blue bunting, storefronts displayed patriotic decorations, and even the trains that rolled into town wore festive banners. Everywhere you looked, there was a sense of celebration and gratitude for our country’s history.
The entire month of July was one long celebration. Grand Avenue in front of the Buckhorn Bar was filled with the aroma of buffalo roasts as neighbors and visitors gathered to share food and fellowship. Rodeos (Wyoming’s state sport) and a concert featuring Waylon Jennings at the University of Wyoming Field House showcased the cowboy traditions that were such an important part of our state’s identity. Of course, the festivities culminated on the Fourth of July with a spectacular fireworks display that lit up the Wyoming sky.
That Bicentennial summer felt different from any other Independence Day I had experienced. Patriotism wasn’t just displayed in flags and decorations, it was lived. There was a genuine sense of gratitude for our nation’s history and optimism for its future. Looking back, I realize how fortunate I was to celebrate America’s 200th birthday in a state whose own history was so deeply intertwined with the pioneering spirit and love of country that the Bicentennial honored.
Celebrations took place all across Wyoming during the Bicentennial year. One of the most memorable events was the reburial of the legendary mountain man Jeremiah Johnson in Cody, with Robert Redford serving as an honorary pallbearer, a fitting tribute after portraying him in the film. The Northern Arapaho hosted a traditional powwow that welcomed visitors from around the region, celebrating both Native American heritage and Wyoming’s place in the nation’s story. The Laramie County School District received a Bicentennial grant to bring El Ballet de los Barrios to local students, reflecting the rich diversity of American culture. Communities planted parks, restored historic buildings, and beautified their towns as lasting gifts to future generations.
One of Wyoming’s youngest Bicentennial ambassadors was twelve-year-old Manus Hand, who represented the state at celebrations across North America. He shared Wyoming’s story with pride, reminding others that while every state has its own history, there is only one Wyoming.
Fifty years later, I still remember the excitement and pride that filled our state during America’s Bicentennial. Wyoming celebrated in its own distinctive way, honoring its pioneer heritage, its Native cultures, its wide-open landscapes, and the independent spirit of its people. Just as there is only one United States, there is only one Wyoming, and its celebration of the Bicentennial reflected the unique bond between the Equality State and the nation it has proudly helped shape. Here’s a polished version that keeps your warm, reflective style:
This Fourth of July will be spent much as the last forty have been; swimming, bike rides, a family barbecue, and then a short walk to the river to watch the fireworks reflected over the Choptank River.
My husband will hang the red, white, and blue bunting across our front porch, a tradition that marks the beginning of our Independence Day celebration. Like so many familiar rituals, it reminds me that while the places I’ve called home have changed, from Wyoming to Maryland; the pride I feel in celebrating our nation’s birthday has remained the same. Every Fourth of July is a reminder that traditions, whether old or newly adopted, become part of the story of a family and of the country we are privileged to call home.
