4th of July

This is the Navy ship that docked in Eastport for the 4th of July.  This is a tradition that has been going on since the 1800's, but I've forgotten how it got started.  After the Breakwater collapsed a couple of years ago, no ship was able to come in, but I believe it was last year when the tradition resumed.  The new breakwater wasn't completed, but hasty temporary accommodations were made.  Now everything has been rebuilt better than ever.  The town was, and still is today, full of white-uniformed young men and women being wined and dined, cheered and applauded.  They are a good matured bunch, no doubt enjoying the respite from their normal duties.

I went to the parade for the first time in a few years, and lover of ceremony that I am, I enjoyed that camaraderie with strangers that comes with ritual celebration.  No matter that what we celebrate has little to do with reality.  The bagpipers and bands from Canada still played the part of friendship, as did the audience, despite the fact that politically our relationship with Canada is at an all time low.  We all pretended for an hour or so that we were still friends.  After the parade I wandered around looking at the items for sale under the tents, resisting any impulse to buy anything.  As usual I was tempted by the jewelry, which I don't wear anymore, and the wonderful dresses, sweaters, ponchos, etc. in wonderful colors and designs.  The food I ignored, the home-made dog collars tempted me the most.  Still, I finally dragged myself back up the street without purchases, headed for the hamburger I knew was waiting for me at Jim's.  The walk downtown always seemed long to me, but yesterday I was hot and exhausted by the time I dragged myself through \my front door and into the shower.  I stayed home during the fireworks, though I would have liked to see them.  I simply couldn't face the walk again.  Besides, Willy needed me here to comfort him through the noise.

This morning Eastport looked like another town.  The roads crammed with cars and people yesterday were deserted.  Terry, the carpenter who has almost rebuilt the house at the bottom of the street by himself, was back at work.  The residents of the group home were slouched beside their dumpster, smoking.  Diana and her 4th of July guests had already left.  In a few minutes I am going on a whale watch with Jim and his relatives who are visiting.  Surely I will have pictures by the end of the day.