Beach Trips in Granny’s Oldsmobile: No Summer Vacation Will Ever Be the Same! by Terri Jones
Although I’ve vacationed in many far-flung places as an adult, the words “summer vacation” always bring to mind horse flies, sand crabs and a wide swath of beach on Assateague Island, Va., in the ‘60s. Nearly every weekend, my grandmother would load up my little sister, my two cousins and me along with chairs, umbrella, blankets, bug spray and plenty of ice-cold fried chicken and tater salad, and head to the beach.
Granny was a veteran fisherwoman. While she sat in the surf in her shorts and broad-brimmed hat hooking a cooler full of fish, her four tow-headed granddaughters would jump the waves, bury each other’s legs in the sand and chug Dr. Pepper under the beach umbrella.
What I remember most about those Saturdays more than 50 years ago are the little things like the burning-hot sand on my bare toes and the scream of the seagulls, interrupted only by our childish screams of excitement. And etched in my brain is a memory of Granny draping blankets over the umbrella, creating a makeshift dressing area so we could change out of our wet, sandy suits before getting back into her pristine Oldsmobile.
While I still love the beach, no summer vacation will ever be the same!
Photo: Salt marsh along Assateague Island in Virgina.