Summer Days at the Beach
By Bruce HB Johnson
I chose my parents wisely, so I could be born and raised in Coronado. My dad was a Navy Fighter Pilot. Growing up on the island was like being in Mayberry, except we had a beach. Summers were magical. School got out in early June for summer vacation and did not resume until after Labor Day which could be as late as the 2nd week in Sept.
We did not have summer programs like kids do today. My dad would be gone on deployment. We were masters of our freedom. I went to the beach every day. Every day seemed to last a lifetime. The summer seemed to last forever. My pals & I would start at sunrise fishing the rocks in front of the Hotel Del. Then later we would move down to center beach to ride rubber rafts in the surf and ogle all the pretty girls in bikinis. It was rare to see an umbrella on the beach in those days.
Later we would move down between Center and North into the rocks where our secret caves were. At night we would be at North Beach where we would dance around the fire rings in youthful jubilation. I took it all for granted.
But then winter arrived. No snow, snowballs, sledding or ice skating. Now I thought my parents were mean to make me live in Coronado Other USA kids were having fun. So I would get depressed and go to the beach and go surfing.
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