Summertime

 I have made a decision to focus on joy and love and stop worrying. What was I worried about? Mainly the state of affairs in our country. But my worry and concern was draining me and in the end non-productive. I'm spending energy and time thinking about cherished memories of my childhood and life in general.

In June, my daughter and I are spending a week in Union Pier. When I tell others about our plans, they invariably ask where is Union Pier? In case you, too, are wondering, it's in the southern tip of Michigan, just over the Indiana border. I spent whole summers there with my two sisters and my mom. Dad came on the weekends but had to stay in Hyde Park in Chicago during the week for work. Ours was just a two bedroom place, big enough for the five of us to sleep and eat. I was told that Sandy and Eleanor dug holes in the sand so my mom could lie on her stomach when she was nine months pregnant with me in the hot July sun. 

I remember digging holes in the sand and squishing the clay that formed under boulders in my hands. I loved the smell. I can still taste the warm grapes and cream cheese and jelly sandwiches we'd bring with us so we could spent the entire day at the beach. There are photos of me and my cousin Susan, playing in the sand wearing only bathing suit bottoms. I remember having lunch one day at a neighbor's cabin with their little boy, and after a day in the sun, feeling squeaky clean following a bath. 

A few miles down the road, my Aunt Lena and Uncle Sam had a fabulous house on a hill just above Lake Michigan. The interior was wood paneled, had five bedrooms and a stone fireplace. What I remember most is being surrounded by family; aunts, uncles and cousins. I've lost track of most of them; actually all of them. Sometimes I pull out an old family album just to remind myself that once I was part of a very large extended, and wonderful, family that probably numbered close to fifty.

The drive will be nostalgic. We'll stop for a corned beef sandwich at Manny's deli on Jefferson Avenue, the apartment building where I grew up on Greenwood Avenue, and Rainbow Cones on 95th street. We'll spend some time at the dunes and I do want to find our cabin and Aunt Lena's place although they have probably been torn down by now. Mostly, I'm looking forward to smelling the clean air, swimming out to the sand bar, and sharing memories with Sarah.

My beautiful sisters, Eleanor and Sandra
with me in the center