Summer of '75

This sustained heatwave has me thinking about the summer of 1975, the year my niece Kayla was born. Growing up in Rhode Island, without air-conditioning, the beach was our recreation and our refuge. Blankets and towels would be spread out and items from coolers to sandals to books and radios would be placed on the corners to keep the welcome onshore winds from flipping up the corners. No stranger would ever dare to step into that territory and onto another person’s blanket. But that summer, the unrelenting heat, hot sun and nights which never really cooled down, meant the silver-gray sand became almost impossibly hot to walk on. 

Our family spent every summer day possible down at Sand Hill Cove. But during that fierce heatwave, my sister Karen would take her newborn down to Bonnet Shores, where her husband Bill’s Auntie Muriel had a cabana. That meant a safe and shady spot for Kayla and some respite for Karen. As a 17 year old little sister/Auntie/babysitter, I was lucky enough to tag along. Walking from the cabana down to the water was a challenge. We would walk as quickly as possible, but we had to stop repeatedly to burrow our feet more deeply into the slightly cooler sand beneath the surface. But something remarkable also happened. People were placing the improvised weights for their beach blankets farther in from the edges and allowing - nay, inviting folks to step on the blankets to cool down their sizzling feet. 

There was a wonderful feeling of practical kindness and camaraderie; a sense of us all pulling together to peaceably beat the heat. Kayla turned out to be a kind and generous soul. She was clearly born in the right summer, in the right corner of the world.