From Snowbirds Guide
Where Have All Those Summers Gone?
By Pamela Munson Steadman
Jul 12, 2007 - 10:38:59 AM
Aw sheesh! Say it isn't so. Coney Island is now being targeted as the next "Sterile Community By-the-Sea."
You heard it, folks. Condos and townhomes will soon permeate the place and reduce those memory-filled cottages and bunglalows to nothing more than mere memories.
Hey! My father-in-law courted my mother-in-law on Coney Island. You had better believe that they munched upon those "unhealthy" famous hot dogs, as well as cream sodas with boardwalk fries, while standing in front of smudged circus-type mirrors that showed just about every unholy inch of bodies that could have cared less about "wellness."
I spent my own youth at an entertainment park in Pittsburgh. I must have downed twenty ice cones in one hot summer's day, as well as lard-coated fries, cumulus clouds of cotton candy, melted chocolate bars...you name it...I ate it!
I spent hours on a rickety ride called "The Jack Rabbit." Even back in the late 50's, this ride was rumored to have loose screws along its tracks. Not to worry. As long as the cars jumped the track on the second nose dive, I was elated! I spun, wheeled, jumped, was thrown and catapulted, and swung my way around this fantastic park all through my childhood.
I won goldfish by throwing golf balls into tiny glass fish jars. Today, I'd be grabbed by the collar by animal rightists!
My dearest memories go back to a week each year spent during the summers in Atlantic City (pre-casinos and pre-demolition of absolutely gorgeous hotels on the boardwalk), when my Dad would inquire, while we were inching our way through Philadelphia, if we could smell the salt water yet?
Our little hotel smelled like tanning lotion and island perfume.
Pink-cheeked elderly ladies, in polka dotted dresses, would converse on front porches along the streets leading to the boardwalk.
We had hearty breakfasts at the YMCA, jaunted along the crowded streets searching for fruit to take to the beach, and spent long hot afternoons building sticky sand castles and jumping gigantic waves that always rolled in around 3 pm. I didn't want the plums or peaches particularly...the salt water taffy did just fine, thank you!
We would eat another buffet for dinner, filling up with Jersey Silver Queen Corn and beef steak tomatoes, always homegrown, of course.
My mother often would dart into "Mammy's Restaurant" on the boardwalk to get a large cup of coffee and fantastic donuts. My Dad preferred Woolworth's ice cream sandwiches. I always had both.
The Steel Pier was magnificent...an extension of summer pleasantries extending far into the sea. We watched the diving horse, threw basketballs into baskets for boxes of salt water taffy to take home with us, munched on samples of fudge, wiped our sticky hands all over our evening clothes, and crawled into bed awed with all the excitement we had had that day.
My own sons were brought up tangled within the madness of boardwalks, terror rides, fun houses, high-caloric foods, and loud and boisterous crowds. I lived a second childhood through them.
So what happened after their generation grew up? I'll tell you what happened. We've became a nation of politically correct wimps.
You heard me correctly.
Beaches are vogue as "family-friendly." This means that parents now want to rent beautiful houses with covered decks and built-in barbecues for the week, so that their children can stay on schedule with naps, play-times, and proper meals.
Those tacky carnival-type rides are considered dangerous (loose screws all around, as far as these parents are concerned).
Daddy has to use his computer to check in with his fellow workers several times a day, and Mommy needs to check up in with friends via the cell.
Little Taylor and Drew (one never knows the gender) sit quietly in the corner coloring within the lines. If they finish without making a mess, they get to have a half a banana and three strawberries with a glass of milk.
There is no boardwalk, because that encourages "bad people."
The sun is now a carcinogen. Slab on that lotion! Well, I do give them kudos for this. My own generation is paying the price of Old Sol, and our necklaces are now getting caught in the folds of our bosoms and necks, unfortunately!
I still have that great tan I always had...it's just that my former freckles, now liver spots, have merged big time!
A quiet walk to the ice cream parlor and a few beach toys around the deck finish up the evening for modern parents and children of today.
No more sticky hands, because a purse full of baby wipes takes care of it all.
Plain pizza arrives in small portions only.
Salt water taffy ruins the teeth and donuts are forbidden for the most part.
Soda pop is a no-no and fudge is simply a small bite, if that.
So, come on, ye builders of this brand new spanking clean Coney Island! Other resorts are following along.
Bring on your sky-high modern condos and high priced homes. A new generation awaits with baited breath.
© Copyright 2007 by Snowbirds Guide