Member-only story
Oh sun, how I loved you
When I was a kid, my family and I spent one month every summer at the beach, specifically Chadwick Beach in New Jersey. My brothers and I would spend all day, every day on the sand, unless it rained and then we spent it spending my parents’ money in the arcade.
Don’t worry. We didn’t spend too much. My parents were teachers. Teachers were poor. Still are. But sports stars make millions. Oy vey. Don’t get me started.
The days on the beach were my favorite.
The sun, the sand, the water, my friend Tracey and I slicking ourselves up and down with Baby Oil, then laying back and willing our winter white skin to tan.
Tracey’s will was stronger than mine. Her skin went straight to the “tan” setting.
Mine made a stop and “burn and peel” first.
I know now that such sun-loving fun was bad for me. But oh how I loved it then. Sure, I’d burn, but then my skin would turn golden brown. And my yellowy-white, blonde hair, bleached from the sun and surf, gave me this whole Jersey-Girl-Gone-California thing.
I was a rockin’ cool 12-year-old, I tell you.
