It was, as the title said in Walter Lord's riveting narrative of the Titanic, a night to remember. But this was not a chronicle of the last hours of the sinking of a great ship but a celebration of the rising of a great community in the early hours of a new century.

Floral Park is 100 years old and there is indeed much to celebrate in that fact. The seeds that John Lewis Childs and others planted in what was then the Hempstead Plains has sprouted into a constitution, a community and a way of life. We are a success and pageants and spectacles, torchlight parades and jubilees should greet this milestone in our rich and enriching history.

The morning of the first day of the Centennial year was wet and windy but by the afternoon the sun had prevailed and the winter blasts of cold air had subsided into a chilly but tolerable breeze. All day the administrative staff, the recreation staff and the Centennial Committee were, after months of planning, making the final preparations for the big day.

By early afternoon large numbers of our residents began to assemble into the 12-acre recreation site to be entertained by our magician and our juggler and serenaded by our Barbershop Quartet. It had been a fun, unwinding, festive day. The white canopies looked magnificent in our park setting.

On the outdoor stage situated by the basketball courts, emcee and former Mayor Tom Hayden seemed to effortlessly make introductions and announcements throughout the day.

Sometime after 5 p.m. it was signaled to start the official opening of the Centennial year. I was invited to make a few, brief remarks observing the significance of our 100th year anniversary.

Accompanied by his beautiful wife Michael Amonte, a local resident and a marvelously gifted tenor was called upon to sing our Star Spangled Banner. This provincial Pavarotti gave a stunning rendition of our national anthem reminding us all that there is no more lyrical instrument than the human voice.

All eyes were now anxiously averted northward to the darkening winter sky. It was a starless and moonless night and the absence of light seemed to contribute to our designs to commence the fireworks as early as possible. We wanted to start our new century with a bang and what better than a fireworks show.

The next sensation was almost unblinking darkness as the park lights were dimmed and then, simultaneously, put out. Hundreds now began to walk toward field one, treading with careful steps on the unlit grounds where in my youth the celebrated Babe Ruth League had played.

Many in serried ranks situated themselves around the fence enclosure; others, like set pieces in a play, filled the grandstand, countless more could be espied, though just barely, in the inky distance.

Wherever you were as the seconds and minutes ticked by you could feel, all around you, the tense, mounting, and almost irrepressible excitement. When push came to shove - Bay Fireworks did not disappoint.

In an instant the bottomless night was ablaze with dazzling color and sound as rockets red glare pierced the blackness and machine gun bursts of fireworks seemed to rock the very firmament of the heavens.

This spectacle went on for 17 1/2 glorious minutes while the Can-Dee singers, a group of talented youngsters, with exquisite synchronization, belted out patriotic songs. At times it seemed the extravaganza would never end as each rock-licking explosion mushroomed into a spectacular rainbow of streaking colors.

Reactions were many. Some cheered wildly. Others stood in awe mesmerized in rapt attention. A few, like Village Administrator Ginny Appel, overcome by emotion, wept. Everyone seemed surprised by the magnitude of it all.

Then as suddenly as it had begun the skies became peaceful and the high-powered lights, once again, softly illuminated the park. Enthralled and deliriously happy with what they had witnessed there was an immediate mass exodus from the park. But no sooner did the crowd catch their breath, 12 massive speakers interrupted the momentary silence by blasting, at maximum volume, the finalé of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.

The sound surging over a blare of trombones swept over the open fields, the surrounding parking lots and into the macadam streets of the village where, some 10 minutes later the symphony, full of fury and storm, culminated with 48 thunderclaps of C major.

One can be enraptured by the melodic genius of Mozart and transported by the divine sublimities of Johann Sebastian Bach but when an event is big, epochal, magisterial only Beethoven can fit the bill.

And so ended an epic evening replete with grandeur and grandiosity.

One day, when we do an accounting and add all the achievements of this village let us be sure to include this one. For it did what any momentous event should do, emboldening us to face the sweep of the great adventure ahead by inspiring and lifting our spirits above the commonplace, the pedestrian and the ordinary. Much like the history it is now a part of, it was a night full of boldness, humanity and a deep and abiding sense of community.

When it was over, we could truly say that at the birth of a new century another wreath had been laid at the feet of Floral Park.