Reflections on the 4th
by Sara Teaster
If you look closely, you will see it. The little tear rolling down my cheek each time the ferry pulls away from the dock, leaving behind a place I have loved since our first meeting. The gulls perched on pilings, cock their heads as if to tell me, it’s OK we’ll be here waiting for you to return. I think of the ferry almost as a time machine, transporting me back to a place where community, knowing your neighbors by name, and pristine beaches were of the norm. When I ache for simpler times, Ocracoke becomes that medicine.
Nostalgia can be a tricky mind game, looking to the past with rosy glasses that cloud visions of future and blurring remembrances into perfection. I think when we feel nostalgic, we aren’t actually longing for time transport, but rather longing for the moments and values that encapsulate our memory of our best selves, our best times, our best days. The 4thof July always evokes feelings of nostalgia for me, of a time running around my neighborhood with bare feet and a sparkler in hand, when the world was only as large as my little yellow bike could carry me. I feel this way when I’m on the island, this wistful joy of time standing still, of transporting me back, and the undercurrent of knowing my time on the island is passing all too quickly. Of all the wonderful weeks, and one winter I have spent staying on the island, this was my first time experiencing the July 4th holiday on Ocracoke.
I try to do one new thing each time I come to the island. I have taken a pastel class with Mary Bassell, a boat ride to Portsmouth, went clamming in the sound, and have tried to integrate in the off season with events at the school and volunteering to help decorate historic homes for Christmas. But generally, I spend my time on the island shelling and rocking in a swing overlooking the water. Both of these activities are exercises in the relation of time. Shells collected represent their own patterns of time, the weathering and tumbling of eons spent in the sea, revealing colors and shades and the wearing down of jagged edges. Time spent in the swing on the pizer seems to disappear; a moment turns into hours where tumbling tales of times past roll off the tongues of my hosts, and the rocking of the swing wearing down my own ragged edges. With all the activities focused around the holiday, I had to add some new adventures to my list, and as this was my first 4th, there were plenty of events to oblige.
The fireworks on the 3rd, which I watched from a balcony overlooking Silver Lake Harbor were a sight to see. The idea of doing them on the 3rd is a meaningful way to kick off the spirit of jubilation of the heralding of our freedom as a nation with gallantly streaming rockets bursting in the salty air. A tense moment as one exploded ground level, but the display continued without a hitch, and was impressive for a town of any size, but perhaps just a bit more so for this tiny little village. And by the dawn's early light the following morning, sculptors were busy at work crating their entries for the annual sand sculpture contest. Building a sand castle fits into the theme of nostalgia for me. Getting the mix of water and sand just right to create a magical space for the crab fairies of my 7 year-old mind was one of my favorite beach pastimes as a kid.
The sand sculpture contest on lifeguard beach was next level. The sheer size and scale of the creations were marvelous, and I applaud their efforts, especially crafting them during the soaring heat of this 4th. It would have been difficult for me to be a judge with the impressive size of the Sand Dollar entry and OCRAFOLK guitar, the word play of the “What Tides Beneath,” and the creative use of shells to create a checkered flag for the Indy 500 race track. And viewing all of these beauties in my Captain America tee shirt, the Avengers Ocracoke entry brought a smile to my face thinking, O’Cockers might indeed be Earth’s mightiest heroes.
The 4thof July parade was next on my list, viewing from the picturesque Community Square, feeling grateful to those dedicated to preserving this truly special place. Stepping away to stroll around the square, festively draped in red, white, and blue bunting, and thinking about the 100 years that have passed since the creation of the Community Store, I can’t help but reflect on all of the celebrations this space has been witness to. I hear stories of floats from the past, as the parade of decorated golf carts hum by, tossing candy to patriotically dressed children cheering them on. Jarred by the booming sounds of a converted ambulance advertising an evening event, I am reminded that modern time encroaches in small ways and leaves its stamp on the history of the future.
My July 4th evening was spent at a backyard BBQ. If you have visited Ocracoke, without getting to know the locals, you are missing out on the greatest treasure of the island. The resilience of these people, banding together in times of need and jubilee are the quintessential representation of community. I see island time represented on their sunned faced, salted hair, and in the joy of their lives they share with those coming to visit. Its isolation created a true time capsule, where the brogue of Old English is still spoken by older natives. I hear these foreign language sounds and deep raspy laughter of watermen, mixing with the unbrogued tales from the younger generations, all while enjoying steamed clams fresh out of the very water, lapping at my toes.
Time on the island is guided by the sun, the tides, the position of stars at night. At only three miles across at its widest point, you can start and end your day by watching the sun rise and fall over water. This fact is never more evident than seeing the island by air. This trip, I had the experience of touring the island in a small plane, and seeing it from above, you realize how rare and special this place is. How beautiful the shoals are from above, without worry of having to navigate their treacherous and shifting depths. Aqua, teal, green, and shades of brown, mix with each other in nature’s most perfect painting. Feeling the surface temperature rise in the small plane feels a bit like city speed bumps and watching whitecaps form and dance below as beachgoers wait for their arrival on the shore, makes me feel like I am connected to the nature of this place in a way that was unexpected riding in a metal machine, hundreds of feet above it. Flying over Silver Lake and picking out structures I know, the village resembles a scene in a snow globe, a perfectly captured magical place, standing the test of time, shaken occasionally by the battering of storms, but still standing, waiting for one to behold its beauty.
This little sandbar, which holds all the stories and people I have grown to love, defiantly exists in spite of the overwhelming waters which surround it. Very much like the foundation of our nation, which so many visitors have come to Ocracoke to celebrate. We defiantly declared our right to exist, our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I think our founding fathers would be proud of the lives lead on this little island.
Sara is a Virginia native and frequent visitor to Ocracoke where you can find her combing the beaches, searching for Scotch Bonnets.
