Last week, on the two hot days I laughed over a memory.
Mom had psoraisis and wouldn't go near the water and hated the heat. Dad loved the heat. He was a water rat like Rory and me. But Dad hated public pools and didn't drive so the only way to get him to the water was convince him to take us to Rockaway Beach by bus. We took a cab from Yorkville to 61th Street & Woodside Avenue in Queens.
The only way to do that was pray for heat that even got to him.
The magic number was over 80 degrees with lots of humidity. In the summer, I watched the weather report on TV like it was my favorite cartoon. On a very hot day, I'd wake early and quietly close my parents bedroom window and turn on the oven in the kitchen. This worked more than it didn't.
The process of getting out of the house I'll save for another day, but Dad loved body surfing, like me, and we always got a locker at Curley's Bathhouse on Beach 116th Street. I still have dreamy dreams about Dad and I popping out of the water after riding a good wave all the way in and laughing at each other with sand and broken shells in our hair.
Here is the link to more pix.
Hot fun in the summertime in New York City.