if you're ready to take that long walk
Jul. 11th, 2008 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbc1975
Not a good night's sleep, never is when it's in the 90s until the sun sets. Today, maybe tomorrow there'll be a thunderstorm to blast the humidity out to sea--until tomorrow, at least. But at 10am, it's already in the 80s and humid and even lying right under the fan is little relief from the heat.
So it's up, rub the sleep out of the eyes, pull on a bathing suit grab my beach towel off the porch railing and a chair from under the porch, then down to the boardwalk. Already there are groups hanging out on a bench, cooler underneath, roasting in the sun. I'll take my place with them next summer, but this one I'm still one of the kids. I do the hot foot hop across the back beach (dry, hot sand), planting in the shade of various umbrellas and chairs until I reach ours. It's just us kids at this hour: the adults are busy tidying up, or working in the City, or sleeping one off. I fling my chair in the semi-circle of us, drop my towel, and head to the water.
Father, son, holy spirit. A few swift steps into the water, then a bracing dive under the first decent sized wave. Today the tide is low, so the wave are small and rolling. I swim out pretty easily about 100 yards off-shore. No jellyfish for a few weeks, and sharks here are the size of cats, so it's all good so long as the tide is already out. Even so, no waves is boring, so I end my "Rockaway Bath", lumber out, and sprawl at the water's edge. The older (girl) cousins are watching their younger siblings until the proper mothers arrive. Des is already who he is: an easygoing, nice fella amusing himself and hanging around to see what the gang gets up to. The boy boys--wrestling, fighting, soldier-playing ones, as opposed to the bookish effeminate one--are running up and down the sand. Or playing frisbee. Or digging a tunnel in the back beach sand; in a couple of summers 2 of them will very nearly suffocate when their tunnel collapses. But when it's 95F and cloudless, no one's keen to exert very much.
I scoop out the sand and watch the sand crabs scurry deeper into the moist cool. I shift myself down closer to the water until the waves slowly lift me up and gently push me around the water's edge. I flip onto my belly and propel myself backwards with my hands, feet crashing into the waves as I get deeper and deeper. When I can no longer keep my face above water I twist and flip. I catch the odd wave, but they've not much power at low tide. Instead I'm back at my chair and some of the mothers have arrived.
As have the Greeks, who always sit as far away from the water as possible. And always bring folding tables, a gazillion umbrellas, and men who where dress shorts, no shirts, black dress shoes and black dress socks. They smoke and drink and play backgammon. There's probably 20 of them in total: parents, grandparents, kids. All loudly yapping at one another. So different, so exotic, from our people. With our dads' bermuda shorts, no shirts, white socks and sneakers, and moms' modest 1 piece bathing suits, kerchiefs, and magazines. All loudly yapping at one another.
I didn't have ice cream last night, because I'm gonna walk up to 116th Street for a knish and maybe an egg cream. There's a lot of skels up there, but I already know how to avoid eye contact, stay out of trouble. But I didn't save money for a Coke, so the buttered knish is a lump in my throat. I'll beg a slurp of iced tea from Aunt B.I take my towel, lay it on the sand and plop down face first on it. The brine on my skin and food in my belly make me sleepy. I'm already brown, so it's not like I'm gonna burn or anything. But the oppressive heat wrenches me awake and I leap again into the surf.
Instead of looking out to sea to spot waves, I turn around and face the shore. I'm out--way out--and realize I can't touch bottom. No one is near and it's a blindingly bright day--no one can see my blond head bouncing in the sea. Our house is now on my left and I'm being pulled down and out---away from our block and away from shore. But I know not to fight it, and instead I flip onto my back and kick across the rip. I make it in in a bout 10 minutes, a good 4 blocks from home and completely drained.
Not a good night's sleep, never is when it's in the 90s until the sun sets. Today, maybe tomorrow there'll be a thunderstorm to blast the humidity out to sea--until tomorrow, at least. But at 10am, it's already in the 80s and humid and even lying right under the fan is little relief from the heat.
So it's up, rub the sleep out of the eyes, pull on a bathing suit grab my beach towel off the porch railing and a chair from under the porch, then down to the boardwalk. Already there are groups hanging out on a bench, cooler underneath, roasting in the sun. I'll take my place with them next summer, but this one I'm still one of the kids. I do the hot foot hop across the back beach (dry, hot sand), planting in the shade of various umbrellas and chairs until I reach ours. It's just us kids at this hour: the adults are busy tidying up, or working in the City, or sleeping one off. I fling my chair in the semi-circle of us, drop my towel, and head to the water.
Father, son, holy spirit. A few swift steps into the water, then a bracing dive under the first decent sized wave. Today the tide is low, so the wave are small and rolling. I swim out pretty easily about 100 yards off-shore. No jellyfish for a few weeks, and sharks here are the size of cats, so it's all good so long as the tide is already out. Even so, no waves is boring, so I end my "Rockaway Bath", lumber out, and sprawl at the water's edge. The older (girl) cousins are watching their younger siblings until the proper mothers arrive. Des is already who he is: an easygoing, nice fella amusing himself and hanging around to see what the gang gets up to. The boy boys--wrestling, fighting, soldier-playing ones, as opposed to the bookish effeminate one--are running up and down the sand. Or playing frisbee. Or digging a tunnel in the back beach sand; in a couple of summers 2 of them will very nearly suffocate when their tunnel collapses. But when it's 95F and cloudless, no one's keen to exert very much.
I scoop out the sand and watch the sand crabs scurry deeper into the moist cool. I shift myself down closer to the water until the waves slowly lift me up and gently push me around the water's edge. I flip onto my belly and propel myself backwards with my hands, feet crashing into the waves as I get deeper and deeper. When I can no longer keep my face above water I twist and flip. I catch the odd wave, but they've not much power at low tide. Instead I'm back at my chair and some of the mothers have arrived.
As have the Greeks, who always sit as far away from the water as possible. And always bring folding tables, a gazillion umbrellas, and men who where dress shorts, no shirts, black dress shoes and black dress socks. They smoke and drink and play backgammon. There's probably 20 of them in total: parents, grandparents, kids. All loudly yapping at one another. So different, so exotic, from our people. With our dads' bermuda shorts, no shirts, white socks and sneakers, and moms' modest 1 piece bathing suits, kerchiefs, and magazines. All loudly yapping at one another.
I didn't have ice cream last night, because I'm gonna walk up to 116th Street for a knish and maybe an egg cream. There's a lot of skels up there, but I already know how to avoid eye contact, stay out of trouble. But I didn't save money for a Coke, so the buttered knish is a lump in my throat. I'll beg a slurp of iced tea from Aunt B.I take my towel, lay it on the sand and plop down face first on it. The brine on my skin and food in my belly make me sleepy. I'm already brown, so it's not like I'm gonna burn or anything. But the oppressive heat wrenches me awake and I leap again into the surf.
Instead of looking out to sea to spot waves, I turn around and face the shore. I'm out--way out--and realize I can't touch bottom. No one is near and it's a blindingly bright day--no one can see my blond head bouncing in the sea. Our house is now on my left and I'm being pulled down and out---away from our block and away from shore. But I know not to fight it, and instead I flip onto my back and kick across the rip. I make it in in a bout 10 minutes, a good 4 blocks from home and completely drained.
