The Beach

Well, here we go again. Another family reunion at the beach....down the shore, ala Stone Harbor. The memories flood back each time we return to the promised land. Now with psuedo adults in tow. We used to stay in a home owned by the Groves family, on the bay side; right near Bud's Market. It was proximal to Avalon...cooler by a mile...and only a few minutes walk to Springer's. The location was fabulous. Hell, anything at the beach was terrific! It wasn't Wenonah!
We would wait all year for the trip to the beach. Mom was kind enough to escape town throughout the summer on Sundays. Up by 6 or 7 and making tuna fish sandwiches on frozen white bread. This evidently, would allow the sandwiches safe travel for the time it took to get all the way to the beach then, make it through the heat until we ate lunch at 11 or noon. She made good sandwiches. Finely diced onion and celery with TONS of pepper. That coupled with cold Pepsi and Herr's potato chips...a slcie of heaven!
We would arrive by 9 or 10 and if you didn't have your ass and your stuff (there's a George Carlin schtick) in the car when Mom was ready to roll, you didn't go. Or so she threatened! Chairs, towels, cooler, sunblock...yeah, right...baby oil and iodine! Each of us was permitted to bring a friend and off we'd go.
Route 55 was not even a twinkle in planners' eyes when we drove to the shore. One back road after another! Through tiny towns with magrant workers up to harvest the fields of south Jersey. Through Vineland and the pine barrens and to the land where trees are shorter and the air, dispite low tide, always was sweeter than the still humid air of Wenonah in the heat of July and August!
We'd arrive and the beach was slightly overcast but it would ALWAYS clear! Mom said so. Once over the bridge separating Stone Harbor from the rest of the world, the weather would always be better. I loved her thinking! My friends, Meg Schweigart, Sandy Dipper or Kathy Murphy were always good company. They were up for walking the beach or going for ice cream or looking at guys. Those really were some more innocent times.