Coney Island Redux
Today Ben and I went rather impulsively to Coney Island. We last went five weeks ago, on a Tuesday, and today felt different. There were more people on the boardwalk and beach, and for the first time, jellyfish. There were clear disk-looking jellyfish that were easily trapped on the sand, about four inches in diameter and half an inch thick. Ben touched one at my prodding to prove his assertion that they don't sting. In contrast were the several large jellyfish we saw floating in the water. Red, brown, bubbly, and oozy, they washed ashore and were the subject of my fascination as they seemed to leave slime behind wherever they moved. We did see one child crying after having been stung on the arm. It hurt me to see that, remembering the day at age four or five when I was stung on the left calf on St. Simon's Island, Georgia. My dad was at work, so mom took me back to our hotel, called a local hospital, and learned to put baking soda and meat tenderizer on my leg in the bathtub. Then she read me stories while I marinated. Another highlight from that particular trip was the shells I brought back from the beach. I arranged them nicely on paper plates on the kitchen counter, and when we returned that night from dinner, all the shells were crawling around on the floor. I thought it was pure magic.
Our reason for going back to Coney Island today was more than the idyllic weather and shared love of kitsch. He had acquired a copy of "Goodbye, Columbus" on the walk home from school, and we'd been meaning to read it aloud together for some time. Today just happened to be the perfect day. So we read on the beach as passersby crained their necks to see what title could possibly elicit such a grin from my face and wonder in Ben's eyes. We read on the train coming home, too, until we were both so sleepy that a nap was in order. Ben's head went around and around in circles as he dozed, keeping me awake but entertained nonetheless. I believe we only made it to page 25 out of about 100, but it doesn't matter. It's superb and unique to leave the city in the middle of the day, just to be surrounded by the strange warmth of Coney Island and a good book.
Our reason for going back to Coney Island today was more than the idyllic weather and shared love of kitsch. He had acquired a copy of "Goodbye, Columbus" on the walk home from school, and we'd been meaning to read it aloud together for some time. Today just happened to be the perfect day. So we read on the beach as passersby crained their necks to see what title could possibly elicit such a grin from my face and wonder in Ben's eyes. We read on the train coming home, too, until we were both so sleepy that a nap was in order. Ben's head went around and around in circles as he dozed, keeping me awake but entertained nonetheless. I believe we only made it to page 25 out of about 100, but it doesn't matter. It's superb and unique to leave the city in the middle of the day, just to be surrounded by the strange warmth of Coney Island and a good book.