Atlantic City, the way it used to be

Atlantic City, he way it used to be

The noon day sun was hiding high above the low puffy cumulus clouds as I lay lounging on the sands of the beach. Occasionally, the sun broke through the clouds with its brilliance and mighty splendor, casting its energy on the sunbathers below.


The coarse, gravely feel of the white bleached sand was deliciously warm beneath me as I burrowed my bare toes deep down in the coolness. I marveled at the sand’s crystal-like reflections from the sun’s rays as bits of sand clung to my damp bathing suit.


Bathing suits of every conceivable color, chroma, and hue were visible everywhere. Men with one piece, one color suits, or two piece suits with a narrow white belt separating the tops from the bottoms, the legs of which came to just above the knees. A circle of material was cut at the hips for air circulation, but still careful not to show too much bare skin.


The lady’s bathing suits were equally demure. Some wore bonnets. Some did not, The less daring wore bloomer-like panties, barely hidden beneath a fringed skirt. The more courageous lady’s legs were bare, while others were encased in black cotton stockings, tied in a knot just below the knee.


The ocean close to the beach was a brilliant emerald green, which graduated to a Prussian blue far from shore where the waves started cresting on their determined journey to shore. The whitecaps got higher and higher and whiter in color as they neared the beach, ending in a roaring thunder-like sound as they completed their journey; leaving only a trace of greenish-white foam.


Later as the sun sank below the horizon in a splendid display of reds, pinks and orangey colors, leaving the western sky a brilliant light cadmium red, my parents and I, strolled, hand-in-hand along the not yet weather beaten boardwalk. Only the aroma of popcorn popping and peanuts being freshly roasted, could compete with the smells of salt water taffy mingling deliciously with the salty sea air the was being brought in by a gentle breeze from the ocean.


My thoughts were of the foot-long hot dogs that cost a nickel that I was soon to taste. The savory flavor and aroma of sauerkraut blending lusciously with mustard , all placed within a large-long bun, was only a prelude to the soft, creamy vanilla custard, sitting on top of an ice cream cone that was yet to come.


I looked at the grand and majestic hotels and mansions with their Victorian architecture, standing tall and proud overlooking the beach and boardwalk. The windows of some were adorned with alternately striped awnings; some blue and white-some red and white, partially hiding their gothic-like windows, like huge eyes starring approvingly at the people below.


But that was a long time ago. Although the beach is the same, the bathing suits are not. The hot dogs cost more than a nickel and just don’t taste as good, and the custard is not as creamy and tasty as it once was. Even the aroma of the salt water taffy does not mingle as well with the salty sea air. The proud majestic structures are no more. In its place are the cold granite and marble gambling casinos. The sound of slot machines, clinking away, taking all and giving very little.