Beach Week

I'm writing this while the whole East Coast is encountering Tropical Storm Isaias--the local TV stations have kept their weather and news people on the air so no Today or Good Morning America or CBS Morning News. They did just keep on jawing on Morning Joe. It's going to rain all day and yes, we needed it, but I do hope we don't lose power, which hasn't happened often here, but tornadoes haven't hit much either, and there have been quite a few already in Virginia.

But last week we spent at Middlesex Beach, which is between Bethany and South Bethany, in Delaware. It's the second year we were there, same house, just enough rooms for Vanessa, Dave, and Ethan to join us. We drive about two minutes to park near the beach, which because you need a pass, has never been crowded: physical distancing is easy and the surf is moderate--Vanessa and I love riding the waves and I've developed even more respect for the elements since realizing that I'm not as resilient when bowled over as I always was.

It was a wonderful week there because it was warm and sunny until Friday. In fact, it was very hot, too hot to stay on the beach for very long. But even with the strictures put in place by the pandemic, it was fun being at the beach. We grilled a lot because going out was less enticing. Crabcakes were great--both the ones we had at a local cafe and the ones we brought with us. Nic-o-bolis and baked ziti remain the great guilty pleasure of Rehoboth.

I've enjoyed beaches since I was very young and we drove out to Rockaway, first to my Aunt Ruth's in Belle Harbor and then changing at Curley's on Beach 116th St. where you could see grizzled regulars imbibing boilermakers at the oceanside open bar at 7:00 A.M. At the end of every summer, we spent a few days in Atlantic City, which was so pleasant, both the beach and the boardwalk, that I've never returned to see what a sad shell of its glory days A.C. (as Variety referred to it when reviewing its night club acts) has become,

Jones Beach was marvelous but it was a good distance from where I lived--in high school, an occasional expedition highlighted the summer. I grew loving the clam chowder you got get there, almost up to the standard of Lundy's in Sheepshead Bay. My dad, always expert on any waterfront matter, drew the line at going to the beach at Coney Island, because even in the 50's, he regarded it as too crowded and probably unsafe.

Visiting my cousins Herb and Eleanor in San Diego, I had two favorite beaches: the Cove at La Jolla, with its spectacular setting and cliffs, and the beach just below Del Mar, one of the few I know that still has some parking where you can drive right up and walk over the sand to the water. Once you travel north of Santa Barbara, the Pacific starts to become cold, just as the Atlantic begins to chill not too far above Boston, probably around Cape Ann. Vanessa and I once ventured in at Bath, north of Portland, with my cousin Bob Hertz,  where the ocean was clean enough for us to see the bottom but where we likely lasted a couple of minutes in the ice-cold August ocean.