When Matt and I had money for a vacation, our daughters always voted for sailing with Grandma and Papa T. My siblings and my family took turns to sail the BVI with my parents. Back in the 70s, my parents invested with an uncle and cousin as partners. The Trulee was originally a bareboat charter sailboat stationed in St Thomas, Virgin Islands. I believed he liked to hear the diesel rumble. Besides, Dad always claimed that the engine needed to charge the batteries or heat water. It was easier to turn on the engine and head directly for Point B. Sailing, however, was a bit frustrating for him since it frequently involves zig-zag tacking due to wind directions. When an engine hummed along, Dad felt assured that the targeted destinations will be met. He was the original MacGyver who could make a carburetor sputter to life with twisted bobby pins and rubber bands. Dad delighted in the mechanics, tweaked moving parts, and continuously repaired an engine to get a boat from point A to point B. Since he was ten years old, he always had some form of a motorized boat. In his heart, he is a motorboat captain, not a sailor. Set sailis more of a term than an actual thing for my dad. We piled into the boat, the girls claimed their bunks, and we set sail for the East River. They’re expecting you.” The conversation and meatballs were that good. The dockmaster exclaimed,” Oh, you’re Bill and Diana’s kids! Go on in. Very early on July 4th, my husband, Matt, three daughters ages 8 to 14, and I drove through the Southern State Parkway and navigated the dreaded Belt Parkway to meet my parents at the Brooklyn marina. Mom’s antipasto and meatballs also helped the rules relaxed. Dad, who makes new best friends everywhere he goes, endeared the shabby dockmaster to allow him to stay in a slip not meant for a broad-beamed craft on a holiday weekend. My dad and mom traveled on their 41-foot Morgan sloop rig sailboat, the Trulee, from our Great South Bay through Fire Island Inlet and docked it in a Brooklyn marina. There were many memorable July 4ths, but I think my favorite was in 1997. Sometimes local radio stations broadcast patriotic band arrangements or a contemporary music playlist to complement the show. If the night is clear, the show is bound to be fantastic with high rocketing colors and fire stars glittering above. There is no better seat for fireworks than on a boat. In my world, the 4th of July usually involves a day at the beach and a night ooo-ing and ahhing at fireworks over the Great South Bay. Lucky for us the forefathers declared independence in the summer when days are ripe for picnics, parades, and spangly celebrations. No matter what the flavor or tone of the political scene, July 4th is every American’s birthday party. The Fourth of July brings the pride of America to the forefront.
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