Christmas in a small town....

As my family and friends know, there is a little corner of the world where I like to get away from it all. It’s a place where you can almost escape time itself, and certainly the rat race of living in a big city. No need for modern conveniences. No need for much of anything except a good rocking chair and a cup of French roast in the morning to watch the water weave between tides and currents. Life is shared and family history told as Brown Pelicans, Blue Heron and Seagulls fight over real estate on the storm battered piers. The caffeine rush here does nothing more than maybe get that rocking chair to go a little faster, and even that can be a stretch of wishful thinking. It’s been an escape for the family built on tradition, and the last several years our Thanksgiving has made itself home on these banks.

Through some back country roads on Saturday evening, passing corn and cotton fields with the speckling of yards piled high with crab traps, I find my way to a waterfront community rich in history. Down the main drag lined with historic turn of the century homes raised for protection from storm surges, a prominent old brick building sticks out piercing the sky with an American and North Carolina State flag. The five story brick and cedar shake structure hovers over the town housing their City Hall, the local Police Department and a museum all in one. A few feet further the intersection of Main and Pamlico Streets… and you’re in downtown Belhaven. Last year was the first time I got to attend the Belhaven Holiday Parade. Even with a “Nor Easter” pounding the area the day before most people were carving their birds, dozens showed up to the parade zigzagging through the still partially flooded streets. Hot apple cider was served out of a store with its pink and silver decorations more a testament to big city living in contrast to the bait and tackle, hardware and other water front shops beside it. I must say I was in awe last year as I watched the parade of this small community go by. Very few of us will ever get to enjoy the down home holiday celebration of a town so down to earth and basic in its needs.

This year I observed the parade in a much different light. Not so much a comparison, but to enjoy the down home goodness of a people celebrating the season in their own unique style. People begin to gather on the corners while others park their cars facing the street to avoid getting out and into the cold. The white glare of fluorescents spills onto the sidewalk from a “laundro-mat” while a mother and her daughter sit in the window watching the commotion. Cops act like barricades and emergency vehicles from the neighboring towns help start the parade, ending the live nativity scene paired with the bluegrass sounds of the season from a local band. This year a twelve piece marching band made its way down Main, each member with their own illuminated instruments. I’m thinking these were the same kids from last years R.O.T.C. squad, as there was no marching band last year, but a musical collaboration of elders riding on a trailer pulled through town. A bright yellow Hummer from an obviously prosperous real estate agency and mobile pews from various religious beliefs trickle through under the sparse decorations of the main intersection. In the distance the bellowing horns of semis rumbled towards me as a faint glair of their decorations came into sight. Seven in all with lights, bows and every other holiday decoration imaginable, crept passed me with a mechanical purr. I waited in anticipation as I knew Santa was the usual grand finale. Last year he glided through town at the helm of a twenty two foot fishing boat being pulled by a Dodge, a true sign of the lively hood of these people. But this year Santa was high atop the crane of a utility truck… passing by, barely clearing the traffic signals and power lines. The modest crowd cheered, Santa passed by waving, and in less than twenty minutes after the first siren squalled, it was over. The spectators quickly returned to their cars and within minutes the faint celebration resembled the passing pirate ghost ships of folklore that sail these same waters. Glancing back to the main brick structure the brilliant full moon peered through the clouds in an early night sky.