Beach Days circa 1960s

I am going through old photos and slides my Mom scanned. There are many that are uneditable, and more that succumbed to age and mildew. But I have what I have and it will have to do. The pictures chronicle family gatherings in dining rooms, backyards, boats and beaches—perfect for summer writing prompts. 

Summer Prompt 1: What did Going to the Beach look like when you were a kid?

Summer days were the best days, because my summer memories are best.

I grew up on the south shore of Long Island, always in the sight of water. A canal or the Great South Bay were my backyard playgrounds. My family didn’t go on vacations or road trips. Summer camps were an unknown. Instead, we day-tripped to the nearby beaches along Fire Island or camped in boats moored close to beaches. Siblings and cousins were my playmates. 

During the week, while the dads work, my aunts and mom took anywhere from eight to twelve kids under the age of nine to the town beaches. We’d pile into a woody station wagon with towels, and snacks for an afternoon of splashing and swimming through piles of seaweed. I didn’t mind the tickling eelgrass as I walked through. The little kids were a bit more squeamish about the seaweed and some didn’t like the sand. This suited my mom and aunts since it saved them from chasing after a runaway toddler. When we weren’t swimming and splashing each other, my sisters, cousins and I built sand castles from paper cups and patiently dripped loose sand and water to make the towers. There were many debates among the big kid engineers on how to build a castle the right way, but inevitably, a little kid, one that didn’t mind sand and seaweed, would trudge through, destroying all efforts. Oh, the tragedy!

On the weekends, when the dads were home all day, we’d pile into a boat and spend the day at a beach along Fire Island. Dad always made a fixer-upper boat work. Sometimes he had to adjust something on the engine while we drifted in the middle of the bay. He’d pull up the engine hatch, release steam or smoke and use a bobby pin or rubber band my mom had handy to fix the problem.

Our boat held my large family with five young kids and everyone—aunts, uncles, lots of little cousins, and anyone who wanted to come along. It was a gang. Mom said unloading the kids from the boats looked like the circus clown car—it never ended. Beach sheets and damp towels secured our claim on the sand for the day. Us kids would play in the water, practicing our kicks and doggy paddles around a mom. A pregnant aunt and/or mom found relief soaking in the shallows while the kids splashed around them. On the sandy beach, we’d play rousing games of Freeze Tag, hunt for horseshoe crabs and snails along the shore and play Monkey in the Middle with the dads.

Salami and bologna sandwiches and cans of grape and orange soda served as lunch. Imagine a gang of kids running around, in and out of the water, sporting their sloppy orange or purple mustaches from the soda. I remember being cautious about eating on the beach since a meal meant one had to wait thirty minutes to digest. We were not allowed to swim while digesting and risk cramps that could cause drowning. Sitting still for 30 minutes felt like torture. 

When we were a bit older, us big kids fished from the back of the boat, away from cranky little kids, while waiting for our thirty-minute digestion sentence to run out. After multiple rounds of shouting to the beach “Can I go in now?”, we were finally reprieved, reeled in the lines, and cannon balled off the top of the boat.

As the day cooled down, the parents packed the boat with the soggy towels and sheets, an empty cooler, and kids, sun-kissed and loaded with salt and sand, and puttered to Grandma’s house. Grandma had dinner and grand aunts and uncles waiting. We de-sanded in the kiddie pool and garden hose and recap the day’s adventure during dinner. Before the leaving for home, we’d play Hide-n-Seek in the dusky shadows of Grandma’s yard.

What did Going to the Beach look like when you were a kid?

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