As we celebrate the 4th of July, Islanders share their favorite memories
Scott Robbins
Every 4th of July when I was a kid, my father had a fireworks practice of calmly saying, “Ooooo, aaaah” after every single burst, no matter how remarkable or ordinary it was. Decades later my ex-wife and I decided to re-establish the family tradition and took our four-year-old son down the hill to Louis’ Beach. Sitting on a blanket, we instructed our son to say “Ooooo, aaaah” after every salvo. It was finally dark enough to start. The show announced itself with a singular, bone-rattling BOOM. Our son, unprepared and shocked to his core, flipped out. We had to extract him out of there. Immediately. We headed straight to the office of Kraus’ Sunset Beach Motel. Greeted by Ceil Kraus, we said, “Our son is a little freaked out by the fireworks. Do you mind if we sit here for a while?” She was wholly sympathetic and, in true Shelter Island fashion, warmly re-plied, “Why sure. Stay as long as you’d like.”
Nancy Green
It was July, 1985. I was nine-months preg-nant. We went to our roof to view the fireworks over the East River. The next day we went to a movie. My water broke in the theater, but I insisted on staying until the end because the tickets cost $6 which seemed like an outrage back then. Our beautiful baby girl was born just after midnight on July 6. In those days women actually stayed a few days in the hospital, bu since it was the July 4th weekend, there was virtually no staff. So my husband ordered Chinese food for us and the poor nurse who had been on duty for 36 hours. We were in great spirits. The next day we took that beautiful baby home to meet her 3-year old brother. He wasn’t thrilled at first, but he came to love her. It was the best July 4th weekend ever!
John Cronin
Many years ago, my wife and I, and my stepdaughter Alex spent countless July 4ths working alongside our good friends Jim and Janalyn Messer in support of the Chamber of Commerce fireworks at Crescent Beach. In those days, Jim organized the festivities, while my wife and stepdaughter roamed the beach collecting contributions as self-described “beach beggars.” Jim and I were stationed at the foot of Shore Road, armed with coffee cans and soliciting donations from pedestrians heading to the beach. Once our fundraising duties were complete, we would join everyone in the center of the beach to enjoy the fireworks display. One par-ticularly memorable Fourth found us watching the show when a shower of embers drifted down onto the shirt of a nearby spectator. To everyone’s astonishment, the shirt burst into flames, and several people rushed to help. Fortunately, the gentleman escaped un-harmed — though his shirt was beyond saving. We spent many years working at that event with Jim and Janalyn (and still have the dated T-shirts to prove it), creating plenty of fond memories along the way. Yet, despite all those celebrations, inadvertently setting an onlooker on fire remains my most memorable July 4th.
Charity Robey
The Declaration of Independence — writ-ten to be read out loud — is right down my alley. Across the thirteen colonies, starting with people who happened to be hanging around on Chestnut Street in Philadelphia on July 4, 1776, the document of our Found-ing was literally declared. I love it when someone reads to me. My most memorable Fourth of July was on our own Taylor’s Island, where people come every year, gather under a pear tree with a 360-degree view of bay and sea and Ameri-can history, to hear the Declaration read with feeling and contemplate the meaning of freedom. Usually, there is a picnic lunch. Anyone who has studied American history knows that the denial of freedom to some people has always been part of the American story. We’ve made progress, but hearing the Declaration — with a fried drum-stick and my fellow citizens — re-minds me that freedom for all is the goal, and we are not there yet.
Henry Caldwell
One of my favorite Fourth of July memories happened during the summer of 2024. While most people were spending their day at a barbecue or relaxing by the pool, I was 80 miles south of Montauk. A peaceful ride out was suddenly disrupted by the erup-tion of a massive bluefin tuna on one of my top water lures. The fish weighed nearly 500 pounds and put up an unbelievable fight that lasted almost four hours. Throughout every minute of the fight I grew more nervous. When fighting a fish like this one, your tackle is pushed to its absolute limits. When we finally brought the fish alongside, everyone was exhausted but thrilled. We made it back to the dock just before the Fourth of July celebrations began. While everyone else was gathering for parades, cookouts, and fireworks, we were unloading one of the biggest bluefin tuna I had ever been a part of catching. It wasn’t your typical July 4th celebration, but I can’t think of a more wonderful way to celebrate our nation’s freedom than being on Long Island’s beautiful open waters, under spacious skies, in the company of great friends.
Joanne Sherman
In our family, special occasions were marked by large gatherings, which required setting up tables and folding chairs in the garage. Thursday, July 4, 1957 – I can still see the men: Dad, Grandpa and uncles in their white dress shirts, sleeves rolled up, because that was casual. They lean back on wooden chairs, talking sports and swirling ice cubes in high-ball glasses. Mom, Grandma and the aunts set platters on plastic tablecloths; and there it is, that wiggly lime Jell-O mold. Suspended inside are nuts and fruit cocktail and only the Lord and one aunt knows what else. At dusk dad pulls a ladder against the garage and all us cousins climb to the roof to watch the fireworks from Byer’s Field, a high school football stadium a mile away, but close enough that after a few bursts I can smell the sulfur. Cousin Patty and I lie on our backs, side by side, holding hands. One day she will be my bridesmaid. This was before Grucci or fancy formation fireworks that look like flags and pinwheels whirly-gigging themselves to the ground. These are just fireworks, plain and simple. Of all the displays I’ve seen since, that is one I remember best. Surrounded by family, tum-my full of lime Jell-O, lying on a tarpaper roof. July 4th has always been good — but it’s never been better than that.
