In the early 1960’s I was a toddler splashing in the waves at Rockaway Beach, Queens. Laughing I ran toward the water. Shrieking I backed up from the water. Waves tickled my toes. I ran away from my big sister, Ronnie, and found starfish near the jetty. “Go in the water and wash the sand out of your bathing suit,” Mom said.
We summered in a rented bungalow on Beach 98th St. half a block from the subway and half a block from Playland. The bungalow had one bedroom where all the kids piled in one big bed. I hated the cold water outdoor shower. I loved crowding around the table for cereal and eating sandwiches on the front porch.
This is similar to our bungalow court.
Swimming….I love it. Pools are OK.
I’m home when I’m swimming in natural water.
A toddler in the early 1960’s….the ocean….splashing in the waves at Rockaway Beach. We summered in a rented bungalow on Beach 98th St. half a block form the subway and half a block from Playland. I lived in paradise all summer long.
In 1968 during day trips to Rockaway Beach, Dad taught us to body surf. Body surfing….free….easy….fantastic.
My brother, his friends and I competed for longest rides. We traded war stories about scraped chests. In 1971 I learned to check that my bikini top was in the right place.
“Mom, can I go to the beach with my friends?” Mom sighed, “if your sister goes.” And later, “take your little sister.” Summers in junior high and high school meant 2 hour subway rides each way to Rockaway Beach.
While there are no waves in the Chesapeake Bay, my go to spot is 20 – 3o minute drive and I feel free….easy….fantastic.