We have to go back someday, Al and I.  It was the summer before I began PT school, the summer we got reacquainted at the baseball game.  A summer of Chicago Symphony under the stars at Ravinia, ball games in the hot bleachers of Wrigley and picnics at the lakefront in Evanston ended with me returning to New York for a visit and him going to Hampton Beach with our friend, Gerry. Gerry’s aunt and uncle had a little beach house there and they would be staying there with Gerry’s parents, George and Esther.

I went to New York and would be ending my trip in Vermont.  Somewhere along the line Al and I spoke on the phone (sometimes I wonder how we survived without cell phones – this all came about in a matter of hours on land lines, unbelievable now) and he tried to convince me to come to Hampton Beach.  I wanted to , but there was one problem, I was down to my last dime.  I had enough money to catch a bus from St. Johnsbury, VT to Springfield, MA.  Al told me he would help me change my plane ticket from MA to Chicago.  It all happened very fast, and within a few hours the plans were made.  I caught the bus and landed in Springfield, much to my dismay there was no one at the bus station.  Here I was, no cell phone, completely broke, no ATM cards, 25 years old, sitting in a bus station, no one there for me.  I remember breathing deep yoga breaths as I wondered what the hell I would do if no one came.  Finally, Gerry came bounding in and off we went.

First stop – gas station for gas and Al threw six packs of cigarettes into the back seat, two of which were mine.  Also unbelievable at this point in my career.  We headed straight for the beach – it had a classic boardwalk, and we partied the week away in the sun, taking a foray up to Maine to see the Grateful Dead outdoors, stopping at a little bar somewhere along the way that played Chicago Blues music.  We were in our prime.

Esther was an alcoholic on oxygen and it didn’t matter how strong the guys poured the drinks in an attempt to get her to retire to bed, she stayed up half the night every night.  Thinking back I’m kind of wondering how we weren’t all blown to smithereens with the oxygen and cigarettes sharing the kitchen space.   We played cards til the wee hours almost every night.  And laughed a lot.

During the day the beach was glorious, we’d stay out until the sun went down, go home for dinner and head back out for the beach night life.  Dave Mason was live in a quaint boardwalk saloon, where we went after we had taken a walk out onto the rocks in the moonlight.  Foolish acts # 1530 in my life – we walked down the narrow spit of sand,  past the rocks that bordered the beach.  I lost my glasses and in those days I only had them or contacts and wearing contacts at the beach was not a pleasant experience. It was the first time Al saw me in utter panic over something like that – just recently he saw it again when I thought I left my cell phone sitting on the toilet paper holder at Best Buy – some things never change.  Miraculously Al found them again on the sand.  It was all meant to be.  Fortunately, while retracing our steps to find my glasses we also noticed that the tide was returning. Midwestern kids.  Duh.  Tide goes out, you walk on the sand. Tide comes in, you die on the rocks.  I was glad I lost my glasses at that point.  God only knows how far we would have walked, stopped to kiss, and walk some more before we were swept out to sea.  Quite a romantic way to die, I suppose…

One evening the beach was emptying, and Al and I snuggled under an umbrella in the sand – close to under the boardwalk I suppose – and were makin’ out.  We surrounded ourselves with umbrellas so I suppose it probably got a bit hot in there, but we laughed when a couple of guys walked by on the boardwalk and yelled “Give it to her once for me.”  Well, I never, at least not in a public place.

I told the guys I would make all the sandwiches and generally be a lady in waiting since I had no more money, if they would support my second week of vacation.  It was a deal.  At one point Al turned to me and said “You really don’t have a dime, do you?”  Nope.  When we returned to Evanston, Al told me to go make a couple of sandwiches, at which point I said two words that he remembers to this day: “Vacation’s over.”

What, you thought I would remain a kept woman?  Not.  But when we sing “Under the Boardwalk” during our spring concert this year, I get all misty eyed thinking about that beautiful week in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire.  “On a blanket with my baby, that’s where I’ll be…”