Editorial from the Star Democrat, 8/31/1997
The following article was included in the Star Democrat for Labor Day Weekend, 8/31/97. The article was saved by Susan Kilmon (her handwriting), and was recently discovered in a pile of articles by her granddaughter, Sarah Kilmon - the cooing 1 year old in this story.
A St. Michaels summer night, everyone was afloat there
Editor’s note: This essay about an Eastern Shore summer night comes via e-mail from Deena Deese Kilmon of Chapel Hill, N.C. Her husband, Steve, is the son of Mr. and Mrs. L.S. Kilmon of Royal Oak. She writes: “Our family is looking forward to coming home to the area over the Labor Day weekend. We have ordered two bushels of crabs and pounds and pounds of cheese!”
By DEENA DEESE KILMON
On the Eastern Shore, there are three things that matter: Family, Water and Tradition. Well, you might want to add good eatin’ and I’ll let you have that, too.
On July 4, 1997, however, only the first three things mattered. We spent the afternoon firing tennis balls from the old cannons out into the Bay, a St. Michaels and family tradition since 1976. Later on, Pop-Pop led the way to the fireworks, anchoring out by the Yacht Club as the old rusty barge full of firemen and fireworks slowly slipped by out into the river.
Nana, sister-in-law and her young son, and my 16-month-old daughter were with Pop-Pop on the old blue sailboat. My daughter looked like a little penguin as she tried to get her sealegs by walking around the boat in her new lifejacket. My husband and I and brother pulled up a few minutes later in the preferred method of transportation of the younger generation, a speedboat. Add to that our cousin and his wife tying up a few minutes later, and now you have the family.
The first few minutes were spent tying off and getting settled. We watched the fascinated children as random fireworks from the homes on the shore and the more adventuresome sailors shot into the darkening sky. Some clever soul tied red flares to helium balloons and they sailed slowly into the distance and out of sight. The adults puffed on pillows and cigars and sipped on their preferred beverage as the kids explored every inch of all three boats. We laughed as a city-dweller we brought along tried to tie off on a cleat. After a few good minutes of instruction, he seemed to get it about right.
As the sky turned an inky blue, the pinpoint lights of the sailboats lit up the harbor like tiny sparklers. The locals were in position early, but the visitors caught up and took their place in the lineup. In amazement we tried to count the lights and decided it was a lost cause.
We were all here; that’s what we decided. A soft breeze carried the laughter and music from the boats and filled the air with comforting sounds. When the fireworks began, the booms and bangs reverberated across the surface of the river and reminded us how far sounds can carry on the water.
I looked across the harbor and swelled with a love of the salty drink beneath us as it softly held everyone in its caress. You’ve seen fireworks, I know, but the lights dancing across the water and making the waves sparkle is a sight you can’t even imagine unless you have been there.
During the show, Nana, Pop-Pop, and grandson were silhouetted against the night in front of me on their high perch on the bow. Pop-Pop smiled as his grandchild pointed and smiled and giggled at the display. My own baby cooed and ahhed and felt like a warm, snug little kitten in my arms.
“Yeah,” she kep saying after each blast. Me, too, I thought. But not because the fireworks were beautiful. Because the whole night was a perfect dream-happily, just a typical night with the three important things in life of the Eastern Shore. We’ll do it again next year; I bet you will, too.