Just a Walk at Twilight - Beach St. to Bandstand

It was a busy but enjoyable Sunday what with the church holding a picnic for all its children, old and young, on the heavenly estate of the former rector, Rev. William F. A. Stride and his wife at Eastern Point through their graciousness.

So the Sabbath stroll had to wait until early evening. The wife and I soon discovered that the twilight hour in Rockport and probably anywhere else can be the tops for meandering. Everything looks different. F'rinstance, that elongated naval ship in Sandy Bay here to honor Motif No. 1 Day which it missed by a full turn of the sun. To the stranger scanning it from the shore, the Thuban presented an impressive sight limned against the approaching grey of the night. If somebody hadn't told us it was a naval ship,we would have mistaken it for a freighter with its mesh of hoists and winches from stem to stern.

Our walk took us from the family estate, all 4,500 square feet, through School into Main Street down Beach headed for Hale Knowlton's Corner, the No Man's land of the feudin' Hatfields and McCoys, Sandy Bay style. Not even 'Squam can boast a more nationalistic loyalty to its territory than does the Cove. It's in the air once you hit that corner.

We gandered at the the 1840 house on Beach Street and saw a fetching home that was originally light colored then shifted to dark, was back again to light through a change of ownership. Must be rough on the 1840 ghost locating his rightful ha'nt on a foggy night, if such there be. To us the change was for the better. A pink painted front door gave it oomph. What seemed strange, were the two ancient chimneys, one skinny, t'other fat.

We wandered down by the only motel in town, that of Herm Erwin's. No wonder a discerning friend of ours from Gloucester said that Rockport always shows good taste in what it creates. Herm's motel is not the drab adobe hacienda type. Instead it is more like a comfortable expansive summer home.

Lilacs in their purple and pure white radiance were all around us. We were reminded of the years that both the wife and I had "covered" Memorial Day processions in Gloucester and Rockport, of how many years, Lew Poole, tall, slim and of military bearing, marshaled the Sandy Bay parade forever starting from Beach Street, and in Gloucester, of the Memorial Day afternoon exercises in the hot and stuffy Grand Army Hall upstairs when the Grand Army held sway. It was a grand day for the grammar school lad who got to recite the Gettysburg Address. We'll never forget that inspiring veteran of the War of '61, William H. Marston, who for years served as commander of Col. Allen Post 45. It almost seemed to us that the city of Gloucester should have made that little hall a shrine to those boys in blue. The sight of them on the march was an inspiration to at least two generations.

Speaking of Memorial Day, it appeared to us that the Legion Bandstand could take a bit of white paint. A lot of folks will be gathered around it come Sunday evenings this summer enjoying the toot-at-toots. It might give the town a better name with its tourists to have the 'stand shipshape.

Twilight proved a great hour for Mollie, the boxer. For all along the way were four-legs of all descriptions and as it developed all were on their best behavior--even the household pet. They seemed to conde-scent to one another.

Another thing we caught was the fact that birds sing their loudest as the night draws its somber curtain. Or maybe our ears are sharper at that hour. We couldn't tell one from the other but that they were full of cheerios no one could doubt.

And if that grueling church picnic hadn't burnt up most of our energy we might have walked a lot farther and seen plenty more but there's a limit to what the legs can do once the half century mark has caught up with you.

Be around next week!

J.P.C., Jr.