It is with a very heavy heart that I sit down to write this column today. This is going to be about my personal experiences and emotions, not about anything happening in the headlines right now, just to warn everyone in advance.

When I was young (still in elementary school), our nation celebrated the bicentennial of its founding statement. This is universally referred to as "America's birthday," even though that is wrong for two technical reasons. The first is that the Second Continental Congress actually voted to declare independence on July second, and the second is that our country's governmental structure only goes back to the U.S. Constitution, which was adopted 13 years later (everyone conveniently forgets about the Articles of Confederation period, which was an entirely separate form of government that, in the end, just didn't work). But whatever -- only pedants care about stuff like this, especially when it's time to fire up the barbeque and enjoy some fireworks, right?

Anyway, as a young lad, I saw all the widespread celebrations of the bicentennial as being just a fun way to commemorate our "nation's birthday." There were all kinds of ways we celebrated, from new bicentennial coins to bicentennial stamps to a newly-printed two-dollar bill (with the painting of the signing of the Declaration of Independence on the back). There were bicentennial license plates in Michigan, and a parade of tall ships in the New York City harbor. Fire hydrants were painted and decorated all over the country in patriotic (and often amusing) themes. It seemed that everywhere you looked, people were joining in the celebrations, in all sorts of various ways.

It wasn't just the official and dignified things like bicentennial coins, either. The private sector jumped into the fray with a passion, and created all sorts of schlocky kitsch with bicentennial themes as well, from Campbell's soup cans all the way down to bicentennial toilet paper and condoms. People derided this as celebrating the "Buy-centennial," but it didn't stop anyone from hawking everything and anything with bicentennial themes. The celebration was big enough to include corporate nonsense as well as staid official recognitions, in other words.

Some of this nonsense was downright hilarious, and very 1970s-specific. From HuffPost, here is one notable memory, for those who lived through the quirks of the bicentennial era:

I was 15 years old, spending the day down at the River Park in my hometown of Red Bluff, Calif., and they had all sorts of events, capped off by people waterskiing in formation with U.S. flags. A little old lady next to me was looking at it and said, "Oh, look, how patriotic... Oh my God, they're naked!" Yes, the water skiers, in a pyramid formation, were streaking past the event, with the sheriff's department boat right behind them. When asked about it, the sheriff stated that they lost the trail when the skiers left the river in a place with tons of blackberry brambles. As stated by the cop, "I wouldn't go through there fully clothed. I am pretty sure they got punished going through there."

This all culminated (for me) in Independence Day on the National Mall in Washington D.C. Living near there, my family trooped down to join in the festivities. The Smithsonian's Air And Space Museum was the biggest attraction, having just been opened for the first time days before. It was a time to celebrate such achievements -- the Concorde had ushered in the year 1976 with its maiden commercial flight (I saw the first one fly over, from my backyard). The prototype Space Shuttle (christened the Enterprise, in a nod to Star Trek fans) would be unveiled later in the year.

The D.C. Metro had also just opened a few months earlier, although it didn't have many stations in operation yet (it was treated more as a carnival ride during the celebrations, as people went down to ride it between the two stations nearest the Mall). Queen Elizabeth II even visited to help us celebrate breaking away from her own country (which is rather extraordinary, when you think about it).

The fireworks display in D.C. was billed as the biggest ever, although I am not sure whether it made it into the Guinness Book of World Records or not. But being there, I can attest that it was a pretty stupendous display of pyrotechnics and lasted a whole lot longer than any other I can remember from childhood. They even tried to do something brand-new and spectacular, by beaming lasers out of the top of the Washington Monument which was supposed to spell out: "1776 -- 1976, Happy Birthday, U.S.A." up in the sky. Unfortunately, this didn't go as planned. The story we heard at the time (I cannot attest to how accurate this is, but it's what we heard then) was that they got the lasers up there, got them ready -- they were going to provide the laser show projected onto the clouds of smoke the fireworks caused, at the very end of it -- and the lasers overheated. This was when lasers were rare and still kind of in their infancy, I should point out. For instance, nobody had ever heard of the concept of a "laser light show" before, or using them to spell stuff out in the sky. Anyway, they overheated and so they tried to get some ice up to the top to cool them down but someone had locked the elevator --so they had to hike the (heavy) ice all the way up the hundreds and hundreds of stairs inside the Washington Monument. Which took too long. By the time they got the lasers cooled down enough to work, the fireworks smoke was gone, the crowds were already leaving (or gone), and they just beamed a single beam out the windows (it didn't spell anything out that I could see). So it all kind of fizzled like a wet firecracker (to use a timely metaphor).

Even with technical drawbacks, it was still a fun day and a spectacular show all around. So for the past couple of decades, I had been meaning to make the pilgrimage back to D.C. for the 250th celebration, if I was still able to. It seemed fitting, to return a half-century later to view the updated festivities.

Alas, though, I will not be making this trip. I threw in the towel on my plans about six or nine months ago. Somehow I just knew that Donald Trump would screw it all up, to the point of me not enjoying any of it and just being resentful at his ego hijacking what should be a moment for the entire country to come together as one.

And as it turns out, I think I made the right decision.

Back in 1976, the country was not what you would call politically "united." We had been through Watergate, the first president ever to resign his office, the first president ever who had not been elected nationally, the crushing end to the Vietnam War, the end of the protest era (and all the assassinations) of the 1960s, the beginnings of other protest eras, and plenty of spirited disagreement over the direction of the country (it was, after all, an election year). And yet, we all came together to celebrate. All of that was put aside, for the most part. People across the country joined in the spirit of the celebration and held their own commemorations locally, or joined in bigger ones at the state or national level.

I would easily have made the trek to D.C. to join in the semiquincentennial celebrations if any president (or even any vice president) of the past 50 years had been in charge. Any of them at all -- even the ones I politically disagreed with (vehemently, in some cases) -- could have been trusted to rise to the occasion and delivered some soaring remarks about the country's past and its glorious future, and how we were all one nation, united by a common beginning and a common purpose to ever strive for a more-perfect Union and all of the rest of the patriotic boilerplate speechifyin' bushwah.

Heck, I would even have been fine if Dick Cheney had been in charge. Or for that matter, Dan Quayle. Neither of them would have been my first choice for master of ceremonies, but I would still have trusted them to rise to the occasion and not make it all about themselves, their party, politics, or anything even close to any of that. They would have read a patriotic and uplifting speech that everyone could applaud and feel good about. Even Dick Cheney could have made me feel good about being an American on our 250th birthday -- and that is really saying something.

Sadly, that is just not possible with Donald Trump. I knew this, months ago -- long before he began personally screwing it all up. Going down to the National Mall in a few weeks would mean seeing Trump's glaring photo displayed on gigantic banners on all sorts of federal buildings, for no reason except the feeding of one man's planetary-sized ego. That right there would probably have ruined the day for me -- seeing D.C. turned into North Korea in such a fashion. There are ceremonial coins -- with Trump's grimacing face on them, instead of patriotic themes. There was a martial arts fight held (with full corporate sponsorship) on the White House lawn, for Pete's sake. And as a true monument to "Trump screws up everything he touches," there would be the fiasco of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, the name of the Kennedy Center shamefully hidden behind tarps (because a federal judge forced Trump to have his own name removed from it), and a smoking crater where the East Wing of the White House used to proudly stand.

This is not the America I remember as a child. Not by a long shot. This is a country slouching towards authoritarianism.

Later this month, what was supposed to have been a celebratory concert will be held, which was planned as part of a "national state fair" celebration, with all 50 states sending delegations for the people to enjoy. If this had been put on by a nonpartisan group dedicated to making the semiquincentennial an enjoyable event for all, then it probably would have gone off without a hitch. Instead, it was held by a purely partisan group dedicated to the glory of Our Dear Leader, and once the artists realized this almost all of them immediately announced they were pulling out of the concert. Many states have now pulled out as well, refusing to participate in a purely political extravaganza. So now, instead, we'll get two of Donald Trump's favorite musical acts together with a Trump speech/rally dedicated (as they always are) to the greatness of Donald Trump and the evilness of his perceived enemies, both foreign and domestic.

Who wants to see or hear that, on what's supposed to be a day of national unity and celebration? Not me, that's for sure.

And just for good measure, on Independence Day itself, Trump will hold another rally/speech on the National Mall, where he will spew his venom and pat himself on the back and declare himself the greatest president who ever lived. That is a pretty safe bet for the subject matter of his speech... which is just sad.

In fact, all of this makes me incredibly sad. It just does.

For years, I had been looking forward to enjoying the 250th birthday celebrations on the National Mall in D.C., 50 years after attending the bicentennial celebrations.

But in the end I just couldn't do it. Because I knew -- months ago -- that Trump was going to screw it all up. So even though there will reportedly be the biggest fireworks display ever (at least, in Washington D.C.), it just would not have been an enjoyable day for me at all.

Instead, I am going to a beach near me, where I will see a very small and intimate display of fireworks (even though they're illegal on our beaches, people always manage to shoot a bunch of them off!). And I will indeed celebrate the 250 years it has been since our country decided to break off ties with England and chart out own course. And I hope everyone else has some fun plans for the day too.

-- Chris Weigant

Follow Chris on Twitter: @ChrisWeigant