DAN'S PAPERS, July 30, 2010 Page 73 www.danshamptons.com
The Sheltered Islander The Evolution of the Beach Basket It takes years of experience to know what you really need at the beach. Remembering back to my youth without scaring myself to death or naming any names, I recall how my beach baskets changed with time. 1960s: Big towels, Sun-In hair bleach, baby oil for tanning, transistor radio tuned to 77WABC because the DJ, Cousin Brucie, would time your tan and say, “Okay, for you girls on the beach, it’s been 15 minutes, time to turn over.” We basted ourselves in baby oil and turned on an imaginary spit on our towels to achieve the perfect tan. Sunblock did not exist. If you burned, you slathered on Noxzema. Yoohoo in glass bottles with a bottle opener. Bologna sandwiches on Wonderbread. Bikinis were just beginning to appear, but only sluts wore them. Cool sunglasses and floppy hat with Peter Maxx design. I love the beach. I don’t mind the sand sticking to the baby oil on my body. 1970s: Big towels, Sun-In hair bleach and Love’s Baby Soft lotion instead of baby oil. Some expensive lotion from France arrived, called Ban de Soleil, and now there were vicious rumors circulating that we should not baste ourselves with oils, nor bask in the sun. Something about skin cancer. Everyone wore a two-piece, so now we had to tan our middles, skin cancer or not. Noxzema, Frescas with the pull tabs on top so you can make pull tab necklaces on the beach. Hostess cupcakes (two in a pack), Devil Dogs and Slim Jims. Cool sunglasses and brim hat with scarf. I love the beach. I never feel better than when I’m near the water. 1980s: Blanket from home that is on its last legs and beach towels that are brightly colored, but much thinner and with a shorter life than the beach towels of yesteryear. Suddenly there’s a man in my life and somehow, once we got married, he lost all his skills at being an independent adult. Now I have to pack beer and salami and cheese sandwiches. Worse, children have shown up claiming that I’m their mother and they have the papers on me to prove it. My two-piece bikini has been retired and I’m back in a one piece Jansen with a formed cup bra. I have become my mother. I am dipping my small Celtic children in 50 protection sunblock because they will burn if they are exposed to fireworks. The beach is too much work. I can’t track two kids there. I tried just grabbing any little kid that ran close to me, figuring someone would grab one of mine and we could switch in the parking lot, but everyone seems to want their own kids and no one wants extras. I had cool glasses until I sat on them. My hair is a sun blown wreck. The beach is no longer fun. It’s where I get to do everything I have to do at home, but with sand. 1990s We are no longer going to the beach unless we can drive up in a Winnebago and have it catered. Nothing pleases my bratty monster children. I’m weighing the pros and cons of prison time against beating them into submission. Everyone has a cell phone on the
beach, why? Aren’t they here to get away from everything and everyone? I hate listening to all the one-sided conversations. At least with two people in the flesh you can hear the whole argument and take sides. 2000s: Back to the beach. The children grew into people with brains and are considerate of others. I have no idea how this happened. I now spread an old comforter down and sit in a folding chair. I have a book in my beach basket that I can read without interruption. I have some kind of guilt-free healthy drink and I am wearing sunblock, which sort of defeats the
By Sally Flynn
purpose of being in the sun. I’m just choosing to live with the contradiction. I’m in a onepiece bathing suit that looks drapey on the outside but has an inner lattice work of struts and straps that rival the Eiffel Tower for uplifting engineering. I still refuse to buy a cell phone. Unless I’m on the list to receive a donated organ, I’m not granting the world access to me at the beach. I have genuine imitation Chanel sunglasses because at dusk, when the sun is directly in a passerby’s eyes, and if the passerby has had a few drinks, I might pass for Jackie O—from the sunglasses up.
2 state-of-the-art trauma rooms, 4 specialized exam rooms, 19 private treatment rooms, and over 60% larger... Our new emergency department is second to none.
The Jenny and John Paulson Emergency Department is now open! If you or someone you love needs emergency care, there is no better facility on the East End than Southampton Hospital’s new Emergency Department. It is significantly larger and vastly improved, with state-of-the-art equipment and treatment rooms. Approximately 25,000 patients visit the Emergency Department at Southampton annually. Nothing is more critical to the well-being of our community and no place provides higher caliber care than our Emergency Department. You could say it’s just what the doctors ordered!
An Affiliate of Stony Brook University Medical Center 240 Meeting House Lane • Southampton • 631-726-8420 • SouthamptonHospital.org 1342299