I have been reminiscing about how I’ve been celebrating July 4th through the years. Since there have been so many, I’ve chosen several that were more interesting.
One year, with some friends, we decided to have an evening sail up the coast. We started from my weekend house in Great Bay, N.J. at sunset. It was a marvelous experience, as we sailed up the Jersey coast, then Brooklyn, and along Long Island. We had a front row seat to all the fireworks that were going off. If I remember correctly, we sail as far as Block Island, before returning.
This one is a little fuzzy. It was a week in the Dominican Republic. I was staying at a Club Med. There was a big party, including fireworks, a sumptuous feast, lots of drinks, music and dancing, all presented on their beautiful beach.
I always enjoyed thinking about this one. Not because of anything spectacular, but because of how the guests reacted to, in my opinion, fabulous food. A couple I knew had a wonderful house on Riverside Drive, in Manhattan. Included was a very spacious backyard, which in the spring and summer, was a perfect setting for parties, and celebrations. One particular July 4th, I and the couples’ wife were chosen to plan and execute the food. She was from a small town in Virginia, in fact it was just a crossroads, and I am an adventurous eater. We thought about Brunswick Stew, but we weren’t sure we could get squirrels, unless we wanted to hunt them ourselves in Central Park. Then I remember reading in high school, “A Dissertation Upon Roast Pig,” by Charles Lamb. It describes, the smells, the tastes, the sounds, the texture, of consuming a roast pig. So, our final main dish selection, was a suckling pig, complete with an apple in its mouth. This we knew was doable. There it was, sitting in the middle of the table, with all the side dishes surrounding it. Unfortunately, all the guests were born and raised in New York City. They all came in and looked at the pig, and no one really wanted any. It wasn’t that they didn’t eat pork, it was just that there was an entire animal looking up at them. Even when I carved it up, there were no takers.
I tried to remember how as a child we celebrated July 4th. I was born, and raised in the middle of Brooklyn. We lived in a five-story, walkup apartment house, so a backyard to barbecue was out of the question. Yes, there was a large park only a half-block away, but it was not allowed. Then all the pieces started to come together. I’m pretty sure it was 1946, since my father was still working for the Army Air Force at Newark Airport. Somehow, he obtained these two, fairly large rockets. The day started with the family going swimming. Not at Coney Island, because my farther didn’t want to be one of the one-million beach goers, that day. Besides, we had an Olympic size swimming pool just a short walk from the house.
Betsey Head Park, combined with Betsey Head Pool took up 10.55 acres. The Park was three city blocks, and the Pool one. As I said the main pool was Olympic size, average depth, I think four-feet, with one corner shallow for young children. At one end of the pool complex, there was a small diving pool, with three different height boards. There were locker rooms, with an observation pavilion above. The men’s locker room was large. It was divided in half; one side had these long and wide benches for changing. You were given a large brown paper bag to hold your street clothes. The other half of the locker room was comprised of a counter going down the entire length of the room. Attendants, took your filled paper bag, and placed it into a small storage bin. You were given a key ring, with a metal disk, which had the number of your bin. I usually wore it around my ankle. From the locker room, you entered the bathrooms and showers. At one end was the entrance to the pool. The walls were made with glass brick, so there was plenty of light. The entrance to the pool was a one-person open-door way, which was curved so there wasn’t any direct sight of the pool. This was also made of glass brick, and it had a small foot pool to wash your feet. There was a duplicate set-up when you came back from the pool.
I assume that we went to the pool early. My mother probably made sandwiches for lunch. Once we found our spot around the pool, we spread out a thin blanket to sit on. The fencing around the pool was chain-link, ideal for stuffing one end of your towel into it, so it wouldn’t get soiled. My father was teaching me how to swim. When we finished, then both my parents would swim together to the middle, the deepest part. We had lunch, and spent more time in the water. I’m sure we spent several hours there.
It wasn’t until after dinner, which I’m sure we had in the apartment, that it was time for the fireworks. The staircase to the roof was just outside our apartment. Since it was so convenient, there were many nights that were very hot and humid, and without air conditioning, we would take our bedding, and sleep on the roof. But, on this occasion, it was for the fireworks. We had Roman Candles, which I really liked. My father taught me how to hold them safely when they were ignited. Then it was time for the two rockets. He pointed them to shoot high, and over the large park area, which was closed. When they flew high, they would burst open, with lots of individual lights. Besides our fireworks, we were now up six-flights, without anything blocking the view of the fireworks display from Coney Island, which we continued to watch every year. This was really a different way to grow up.
