Tuesday, November 15, 2022

Competitive Tanning

Tanning was competitive back then, back then being the years I was in high school and college. Medical science had not yet condemned the practice and, if it had, I am not sure the AMA could have convinced girls of a certain age, mine, to abandon their favorite activity. I use the word activity loosely. 

Rather than thinking of a tan as something you acquired by playing summer sports, tanning became something of a sport unto itself. I was not athletically gifted but even I could play this game. The only skills required for tanning were walking to the beach, lying on a towel and turning over. Yes, there were other pastimes to enjoy on the beach but many of them ate into valuable tanning time. For example, going in the water, while fun, took your legs out of direct sunlight.  Competitive tanners did not overdo ocean time. We had reclining to do. Yep, tanning was my kind of activity, my sport - until I identified kayaking, the only sport I know of you can do with your legs crossed. But that’s another story.

I did not use any performance enhancers. No baby oil spiked with iodine. No tanning reflector that might have been better used as a steering wheel protector. No, I was a purist, but not a champion. I wasn't gifted with natural talent. The opposite was true. I had Irish skin. Once, after a full season with daily trips to the beach, I happily told a friend my tan was the deepest I’d ever had. He said he was sorry. 

For those of us who grew up in the Philadelphia area, serious tanning was mostly done at the Jersey Shore. Sure, there were people who spent the summer poolside in the city but real tanning required a trip to the beach. Preferably for the entire summer. During my peak tanning years, I only got to spend the full season at the beach twice. Both times in my early twenties. Every other year I had to content myself with a week here or a weekend there. And, that could create some stress--which brings me to the Garden State Parkway.

Memories of that anxious feeling often pop up on the Garden State Parkway when I am driving on the highway. Back then as we drove to the shore we could monitor the skies over the barrier islands that line the New Jersey coast. The final leg of the drive was always fraught with tension. Were there clouds over the beaches? If so, would they still be there when we could spread our beach towels on the sand? Were there more clouds moving in from the west?  If so, would we be able to outrun them?

But those are only memories. Now my preferred time to take the drive down the Garden State is sometime between September and May.  But if I do make the trip in the summer, my preferred beach arrival time is 3PM when I complain about how hot the sun is. I no longer feel the need to lay out a yearly calendar with trips to the tropics spread throughout autumn, winter and spring so I can keep my “base.” Competitive tanning went out of style decades ago. Certainly, for my generation. I don’t miss the practice. I actually enjoy the beach a lot more now especially if I remember to bring suntan lotion. Maybe SPF 100. You know the kind that blocks those rays.


NOTE TO SELF: by your late twenties you would spend five hours of any beach day riding waves.

Wednesday, November 2, 2022

People to Remember: Believe Your Friend

Today’s episode of people I never forgot who have no idea I was ever alive.  

One day Bruce Springsteen and I flew commercial from Newark to Chicago. I was aware of this; Bruce was not.  I was behind him getting off the plane so I kept up with his group to see what it was like to be Bruce Springsteen walking through an airport.  Matching his pace wasn’t easy. He moved fast.

I only recall one person who noticed Bruce although I suppose there were more. A guy, youngish businessman, at a newsstand told his friend facing the other way:  Hey! That’s Bruce Springsteen.  His friend never turning around replied (with condescension):  I doubt it.  

Lesson learned:  if a friend tells you something good is behind you, what harm can it do to turn around?