Just driving into town was enough to
get the smiles going, but, for me, the deal was sealed by a run
through the old neighborhoods and the town. Like my own personal
tour bus with my brain serving as tour guide stimulated often by
seemingly nothing but the merest visual cues and the music from my
iPod blaring in my ears. I took off from our house on Harbor Road
and made the turn on to Cedar Road where at number 9 resided the
heart and soul of our times here. Sadly, the old, red, one-story
frame house is gone now replaced by a mini-mansion box that I suppose
is attractive to someone, although certainly not to me. But, the
house didn't need to be there to bring it all back. Here is where a
young Amy DePippo embarked on a determined course to bake a very
young Alex a birthday cake decorated to look like a pool table, and
make it all happen in a toaster oven. Here was where, on unrelenting
rainy days, we would succumb to the elements and encourage the boys
to play in the downpour out in the backyard, sometimes with the
yellow slip 'n slide that was in perfect shape for rainy day play.
It was here that our old chocolate lab, Hoover, would fight over the
orange baton thrown far into the ocean with Randy and Cathy's border
collie, Domino. Their truce was for each of them to have a firm grip
on either end of the baton as they swam ashore together like a canine
synchronized swim team might do.
Right around the corner was 1 Ocean
Drive where our Virginia neighbor, Mark, saved a very young Markey
Mark from cascading over a railing to the floor below, and where a
young Jesse blithely ignored a small army of secret service personnel
to walk up and introduce himself to what was then a newly elected
Vice President Gore.
On I ran. Where the road passes
closest to the beach, just north of town, there is a stretch of beach
where they used to hold the sand castle competition, a must see for
us and the boys. The creations there were a testament to a kind of
creativity and architectural genius that we could only marvel at. In
the evenings, this is where you wanted to be to see the moon's
reflection trip along the water to the shoreline. Magical. And,
then there was the boardwalk running along the beach, through town
and on to the residential area to the south. People strolling arm in
arm, dog walkers everywhere, babies in strollers, tattooed people of
so many sizes, shapes and coutures you'd swear you had come upon the
world's truest melting pot. And, there, on the right, was the kite
store where on this day the breezes were strong enough to make
everything spin, flutter and dazzle.
Further down the boardwalk I came upon
a statue commemorating Giovanni Da Verrazzano -- a statue unknown to
me from our times here -- and a testament to his exploratory forays
into this region in the early 1500s. Who knew? Just as this
historical reality was sinking in, up loomed the irrepressible sign
for Dolle's, a big juicy red, sticky sweet sign that lords itself
over the boardwalk announcing to the world its saltwater taffy and
other less famous sugary treats. And, then, holy ground: Grotto
Pizza where one can clearly identify the soul-melting aroma of a
veggie bianco or the fresh basil from its margherita pizzas.
I pressed on. If I could laugh and
run, I would have at the sight of Funland. Here was the world's
epicenter as far as Jesse and Alex were concerned. Rides, games,
food. A juvenile perfect storm. But, Lily and I weaved a fable back
in those days advising the boys that Funland was only open when it
rained. It's amazing they still talk to us. On this day, Funland
was shuttered but I swear the air was filled with the aroma of
popcorn and melted butter.
This run was, for me, a wonderfully
sweet experience. I wanted more than anything, just this one time,
to have the endurance to run forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment