Memoir

I Finally Touched a Cannon — A Wish I Had for Decades

Something in my past created this longing within me

During the late 40s and early 50s, I spent my childhood living close to Fort Hamilton, located in Brooklyn, New York. Although I was too young to comprehend the impact of war, the presence of a cannon and a stack of cannonballs on display in front of a massive white building at the end of our street along Colonial Boulevard always intrigued me, and I felt this strong urge to touch them.

Stop the car — I want to get out

Each week on our way to Colonial Park, where my father played handball and my sisters and I enjoyed the large playground, we regularly passed by the cannon, and each time, I would ask my father if I could step out of the car and touch them. His response was always an annoyed, “No, that’s private property. Why would you want to touch them anyway?”

Although I could not put it into words, I wanted to know more about their history. My father only told me that cannons were once used in war to safeguard our land and sea from enemies. In my young mind, I tried to picture them and how noisy they must have been and how devastating a hit from a cannonball would have been.

After his explanation, I was starting to grasp the significance of fortresses like Fort Hamilton and the possible invasion by ships. Because we lived so close to the ocean, we could hear the foghorns and smell the ocean air.

Once we moved to another location, the cannon and the cannonballs were put out of my mind for a while.

All but forgotten

Many years later, now with a family of my own, my son and daughter-in-law planned family trips to new places and often took me along as another pair of eyes to help with my grandchildren. One year, they planned a trip to Bermuda.

I was apprehensive about being on a ship, as I’m scared to death of sharks, and also prone to sea sickness. I decided to go anyway, took my Dramamine before we left, and told myself I’m safer on a ship than on the highway in a car.

But the best part of the trip for me was very unexpected.

As we approached the dock in Bermuda, my eyes were drawn to two cannons situated on a nearby hill, pointing towards the waterway where our ship was docking. Unable to contain my excitement, I exclaimed, “Look! Cannons! We have to go see them!”

With childlike enthusiasm, I told my family about the cannons at the end of my old street and how I was never allowed to go near them. I then asked my son if we could take a slight detour up the hill to where they were situated, which brought on a quizzical look from him.

While the rest of the family was eager to try various activities, such as getting up close to the dolphins, the only thought I had was getting up close to the cannons.

Although my family did not understand my intense desire or share in my enthusiasm, they humored me nonetheless.

On our first day to “get it out of the way,” we took a walking tour up the mountain where a museum was located, with the two cannons sitting at the edge of the parking lot a couple of hundred yards away facing the water.

Before I could even think about the museum, I headed toward them with my family behind me.

My legs trembled as I approached them, still looking as though they were poised for battle. Awe-struck and standing only a foot away, I reached out and placed my hand on the first cannon.

As I stood there, flashes of it in battle formed in my mind, and I became lost in the moment. Tears welled up in my eyes unexpectedly, with no explanation for my overwhelming emotions.

I was feeling the fear, determination, and struggles people faced during times of conflict as if I were reliving them myself.

The steel was warm from the sun. The shaft of the gun was thick and hard to the touch. My hands slid along its back, gliding over every inch. I was salivating and swallowing hard. My fingers probed inside the opening where cannonballs would have been released.

My unimpressed family grew increasingly impatient to move on to something else and almost had to pry me away.

Bermuda was lovely, and after finally walking through the museum, we discovered many exciting activities to enjoy. The next day, we took a taxi around the island and learned more about its history from a knowledgeable tour guide, including stories about how they fought for their freedom and how those cannons were used.

It did amaze me to learn how the locals are self-sufficient and collect rainwater for personal use rather than importing water from another source. Of course, we also spent time swimming with the dolphins, which are truly magnificent animals.

Childhood curiosity satisfied

But for me, the highlight of the trip was the cannons, and every time I caught a glimpse of them sitting so proudly on top of the hill, I finally understood the true meaning of what they symbolized — war, death, and freedom.

Then I recalled the cannons at the end of our street that were left on display as a reminder that we had to fight for the privilege of being free.

I satisfied a childhood curiosity on that trip, but with so much more respect and reverence than I had before for a magnificent piece of artillery.

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