Stuff I Miss

Here is a list of some things I miss:

Waking up and having absolutely nothing to do all summer.
Old-fashioned drugstores with ice cream soda bars.
Asking if I could go to the bathroom at a restaurant just so I could crawl under the table to get out.
The Lost 45’s radio program on Sunday nights.
The ‘popcorn man’ on the Salem Common.
The tilt-a-whirl at the Salem Willows.
Wearing old sneakers with my bathing suit so I wouldn’t cut my feet on clam shells.
The dill pickle jar on the counter at Lena’s sub shop on Bridge Street.
The Spiegel catalog arriving in the mail.
“Sobi’s” meat market on Webb Street in Salem.
Weylus’ in Salem- free bowl of soup with your lunch plate.
The “V-bar” for awesome grilled burgers.
My white pleather kid’s bible and glow-in-the-dark rosary beads.
The creature-double feature.
A brand-new Colorforms set.
The sandy, salty feeling of a day at the beach.
Showering with a hose.
Buying a whole new back to school wardrobe, from the shoes up.
The lunch-counter at Almy’s and their super-salty string French fries.
The “Salem station” on the radio.
My grandmother’s polish cooking- everything started with a chunk of pork fat.
Using a clothes pin and a card to create annoying sounds with my bicycle.
Eating pretty much anything and not knowing or caring about the calories.
The Salem News, when it really was just Salem.
Playing my new 45 record over and over and over until it was memorized.
A bottle of coke-syrup in the frig.
Fishing for flounder in Salem Harbor.
Digging for clams at low tide at Collins Cove Beach.
Russell’s Ice Cream’s ‘sweet cream’ hot fudge sundae with real whipped cream.
Hobby shops full of jigsaw puzzles, paint sets and models (not the fashion kind).
Making stuff out of gimp with the Salem Common park instructor.
Watching ZOOM and talking in ubbi-dubbi.
Checking out stacks of hard cover books from the Salem Library.
Watching Disney’s Wonderful World on Sunday nights.
My body dotted with calamine lotion, zinc and mercurochrome from too-much summer fun.
Back when being a kid and ‘having fun’ was our job.

The best job I ever had.

Summer in Salem

Biking around Salem on a recent evening, I rode past some of my old summer haunts, scaring up memories of a younger me riding this same route over 40 years earlier.

My youthful summers centered around swimming, and my standard uniform was a ruffled bikini accompanied by old white sneakers that would make unflattering farting type noises as they squished out the water they were never intended to be used in. My Nana’s back yard opened to Collins Cove beach, where a huge pipe ran from one side of the harbor to the other, submerged at high tide; trapping shallow water to one side of it at low tide. I’d watch the rising water until waves lapped the edge of the pipe then try to run to the other side before it was engulfed, spending the rest of the day disrupting the periwinkles that were stuck to it.

Another popular hangout was the Forest River Pool, which was filled with salt water back then. Murky and cold, we’d swim until our teeth chattered, then jump out to stuff a peanut butter and jelly sandwich down our throats. We would then be warned to wait at least 15 minutes before we went back in or we’d get a side stitch and drown, as we’d impatiently dangle our feet on the edge of the pool screaming “IS IT TIME YET?” every 30 seconds.

Then there was the Salem Willows Casino, aptly named as we’d blow our weekly allowance on skee ball trying to win a bigger and better prize, but instead come home broke with only a green plastic soldier and a Hobb’s popcorn stomach ache to show for it.  

But it was the rides perched on the grassy knoll near the entrance that fueled my emerging adrenaline addiction. There was an airplane ride, a roller coaster and a tilt a whirl. I was such a regular the conductor would sometimes let me ride longer on the slow days, no doubt amused by the puny girl trying to leverage her weight to spin the cart as fast as possible.

Before the Peabody Essex Museum consumed downtown Salem, it was a humble building where I’d spend afternoons mesmerized by the stuffed animals indigenous to the area, and in awe of the ship figureheads that lined the walls of the great halls. I saw the wax witch story at the Salem Witch Museum so many times I knew the script better than most men know The Godfather, and there were no more secrets the House of Seven Gables could keep from me, as I knew them all.

There were also special events, like the carnival that took place at Riley Plaza. Watching them arrive and set up was an event in itself, and although I never had much money to spend on rides, it was a treat to experience the flashing lights, arcade game sounds and cotton candy scent in the middle of the city.

The Heritage Days fireworks display took place at “the overpass” where the Salem Train Station is now located. Being 3 foot nothing, the only way I could see them was if my father sat me on his shoulders where I would hold on tight to his forehead, nearly poking out his eyes in the process, reveling not only in the sparkly show, but also in the fact that I was out way past my bedtime.

Caught up in my ride down memory lane, I realize it is once again past my bedtime as I turn my bike towards home, the end of another summer day in Salem.