Thursday, July 29, 2010

Under The Boardwalk



Now the only time I can see this intimate corner is in the movie the Little Fugitive.

It was where we changed out of wet bathsuits because there was "No Changing Clothes" in the ladies rooms. Or where we slipped away, tired of the hot blanket and familiar faces. Where when it was too sunny we went for a quick respite before jumping back into the waves. It's where I saw full body necking for the first time and felt I had just visited an exotic land, that kind of touch in our neighborhood only happening behind closed doors or in movies.

I once asked Florence if she went under there as a teenager but her tough smile response let me know it had not been good memories.

Now, it seems there is no way to go under anything except in certain spots and those places look official.

3 comments:

Bucko said...

That glimpse, more sexy than baring all.

cityofstrangers said...

CO - Nice glimpse of an exotic corner of memory - half-hidden by the dark.

Yeah, those secret corners exist less and less it seems . . . kids don't have the time alone to discover them.

T.

c.o. moed said...

whenever I hear that song under the boardwalk... I am literally back in my childhood on a particular day at the beach with my gramma watching for the first time a couple neck...and also watching the sun fade and the sounds and the smells. It's like an instant acid flashback.