Tucked away on the west side of the small town of Broad Channel in the middle of Jamiaca Bay is a narrow, dead end, street that goes by the name of West 12th Road. Those of us who live there know that the nice part about living in a small town is that when you are not quite sure what is going on, someone else always does!
[Peter J. Mahon West 12th Road, Broad Channel]
Last weekend felt like the first real summer weekend and it came after the 4th of July. Which threw me off. I usually declare summer over on the 4th but that’s after a few weekends of true summer. Didn’t happen that way this year. I’m stupid enough to give myself the whammy and here goes: I haven’t even put the air conditioning in yet.
Anyway, in order to do deep journalistic research on how things were going I had to swing by the concessions on the boardwalk. They were too busy for me to judge. They must’ve been giving out fresh twenty dollars bills.
The biggest attraction in Rockaway these days can’t be the beach or boardwalk, it’s gotta be lines. (Which might be an improvement over line dancing, but I digress). Can’t you just hear the conversation in Brooklyn? Man, I gotta get to Rockaway. They’ve got lines of people. Just lining up. It’s crazy, man.
I figured I’d mull this cultural phenomenon with a frozen at Connolly’s. Okay, plural. Frozens are like Lay’s Potato Chips – you can never just have one.
As glad I was to have a great spot at the bar clutching a chilly pina, my happy meter almost broke when I was given a Connolly’s t-shirt by Kerry Ann Daly. Now I never have to look up whether it’s Connolly’s or Connelly’s. It’s right on my shirt. I know it should be easy to remember. It’s Connolly’s with an “o” like in frozen but I usually forget how to spell by the time I leave.
When I stepped outside I practically ended up on a line coming from the Rockaway Beach Surf Club and Tacoway Beach six or seven blocks away. The place on 87th is crushing it. But that line thing again. Damn, I forgot to mull it over while at Connolly’s.
Now, you’ll never catch me getting on a line like that but I do get a kick out of watching the line grow. I sometimes try to make eye contact with the people at the end of the line to see if they’re just insane. It’s weird because they really look normal – except for where they’re standing. Seven miles from the ordering counter.
The indoor – outdoor Surf Club was jumping but watching the people on line made me hungry and Bungalow Bar was part of the itinerary so why wait. Off we went for more summer revelry. We reveled and reveled and wound up toasting ourselves about how we executed such a great day. Ryan Whelan and Sean Tubridy helped.
And now this column, like life often does, is about to veer off without warning. We go merrily along with all that summer brings and are surrounded by reminders about how life is good. But death doesn’t take a summer vacation and just like that, the sun can seem a little less bright, a summer breeze not so sweet.
Of course, there’s nothing to say to someone who’s lost a family member. The best you can do, the best you can hope for, is to not say something stupid.
A few people with close ties to our paper have had loved ones die recently.
I wanted to write something that would be heartfelt and meaningful but, really, there’s nothing more to say than: sorry for your loss. I hope the dumb comments that are sure to come will be few and soon forgotten.