The instant the sun sinks into Barnegat Bay, the trumpet music begins.
The familiar, mournful notes of taps float gently over Beach Haven Gardens, a bustling vacation spot bounded by water towers on the southern end of Long Beach Island, N.J.
Bikers stop biking. Walkers stop walking. Grillers stop grilling. Teenagers en route to Wawa look up from their phones. When the song is over, listeners applaud or sound their appreciation on conch shells.
Taps is as much a part of the soundtrack of this Jersey Shore neighborhood as the squawk of sea gulls and the roar of waves. But many residents aren’t exactly sure where the song is coming from. Despite sparse tree coverage, it can be hard to spot the musician in a thicket of telephone wires, patio umbrellas and roof decks.
“One day I was walking back from the beach and this couple asked, ‘Do you know who plays taps?’” said John Hersh, a retired teacher who could pass for the younger brother of John McCain. Mr. Hersh said he replied, “Well, it’s me. I play taps.”
Sitting in his living room with an American flag waving behind him on a recent morning, Mr. Hersh seemed tickled by the enthusiasm for his evening ritual.
“It has become a tradition,” he said. “It’s a way of bringing people together.”
Mr. Hersh’s serenades create an inflection point, a moment to pause and reflect on a day gone by. Even for impatient listeners, the 59 seconds it takes to play taps is a manageable amount of time to stand still.
Kathy Dolan’s family has owned a bungalow in Beach Haven Terrace for 102 years. They look forward to taps at the end of each day. “It means a lot,” she said.
What it is about those 24 notes that stirs us — or silences us, or even moves us to tears?
Taps conjures images of young soldiers and military veterans, reminding us of sacrifice and causes greater than ourselves. It provides a chance to exhale, making daily concerns seem small.
In Mr. Hersh’s hands, the music isn’t precious, despite its solemn air. It competes against the thrum of traffic on Long Beach Boulevard and occasional bellows from a drinking game in a distant yard. Life goes on, even to a tune often associated with loss.
The trumpet Mr. Hersh uses is the one he took lessons on as a fourth grader in York County, Pa. At Spring Grove High School, he played in concert band and marching band, at football games and in parades.
When Mr. Hersh went to Millersville University, he stopped playing. Drafted into the Vietnam War, he deferred military service until graduation, then joined the Pennsylvania National Guard. He did basic training in Fort Dix, N.J., before heading to Fort Lee, Va., and, later, Fort Indiantown Gap, Pa., where he refueled helicopters for six years.
Others weren’t so fortunate, including Mr. Hersh’s childhood neighbor, Tony Thoman.
“He went to Vietnam very innocently like all the other young men and unfortunately didn’t live,” Mr. Hersh said. “I go to his grave every now and then. I remember him as a teenager. He played trumpet next to me in the band.”
Mr. Hersh got married, started teaching fifth grade and had two sons. In 1978, he bought a bungalow in Beach Haven Gardens for $59,500. He renovated the place twice, then built a new house with a roof deck not long after Hurricane Sandy.
A decade ago, Mr. Hersh rediscovered his old trumpet in its original case. He had played on school camping trips over the years — “Reveille” in the morning, taps in the evening. “The kids loved it,” he said. “It was a little special ending to the day.”
Retired now, on the threshold of a new phase, Mr. Hersh decided to play taps on Long Beach Island.
“I wasn’t sure how it would be accepted,” he said. “And I had to get my lip back after all those years. That took a couple weeks. Then I started playing, and the rest is history.”
Pretty soon, Mr. Hersh attracted a following. Clusters of people gathered on the street, listening before heading to Terrace Tavern or Dairy King or Mr. Tee’s for mini golf. A few regulars waved from nearby roofs. He waved back, using both arms like a president greeting crowds from a White House balcony.
Mr. Hersh isn’t an elected official, nor does he have a Bronco or a motorboat, two key indicators of clout at the Jersey Shore. He’s an ordinary guy, a family man.
An ordinary guy who created a beloved and unifying ritual for his neighbors and friends.
In Beach Haven Gardens, the community can appear divided by warring flags: Trump, No Kings, God & Guns, Hate Has No Home Here. But the beach itself is neutral territory. For a few brief, shining hours every day, locals and renters unite around a few simple goals: Relaxation. Appreciation. Pursuit or avoidance of the sun. On the sand, neighbors simply exist together. A trip to the beach is an organizing principle of the day, the vacation, the summer, the year.
Taps has the same effect: It’s mesmerizing and equalizing. Spend enough time in Beach Haven Gardens and your solar system will reorient around its pull.
Mr. Hersh plays his trumpet rain or shine, standing in a covered stairwell on inclement nights. On Memorial Day, he joins Bugles Across America for synchronized nationwide rendition. He knows the history of taps — he took his 12-year-old granddaughter to Harrison’s Landing, Va., where it was first played by an army bugler during the Civil War — and the etiquette for civilian listeners.
“It’s OK to put your hand over your heart,” he noted. “You’re not supposed to salute if you’re not military.”
He doesn’t play any other songs. Occasionally he plays taps at a funeral, and that’s the only time he gets nervous. (“It’s a lot more serious.”)
To determine the precise moment of sunset, Mr. Hersh consults Alexa. “She’s not always correct,” he said. “Sometimes that last little bit of orange goes down, and it’s not her time. I play according to the sun.”
Long Beach Island has changed since Mr. Hersh first visited in 1969. The houses are bigger and pricier, the dunes less wild.
But the beaches remain the same, wide and clean, magnets for Philadelphians and New Jerseyans, Republicans and Democrats, people who lament the Hamptonification of Long Beach Island and people who wouldn’t mind trading Acme for Whole Foods, neon signs for teak ones, clam shacks for haute cuisine.
Mr. Hersh sees past those divides.
“I fly the American flag every day,” he said. “I do it because it’s patriotic, and that’s the bottom line. Put politics aside. We’re all good people. We all have the same needs and wants. We look out for each other.”
He added, “My biggest hope is that our children and grandchildren will know what came before them. When you think of the people who have died for this country, it’s personal.”
In September, Mr. Hersh and his wife, Sally, will visit Vietnam for the first time. When he plays taps, he still thinks of Mr. Thoman, playing beside him.
Elisabeth Egan is a writer and editor at the Times Book Review. She has worked in the world of publishing for 30 years.
The post When the Trumpeter Plays Taps, the Crowd at the Shore Goes Silent appeared first on New York Times.
