Promise land

 My Dad worked at Promise land. No, he hadn't traveled with the Israelites out of Egypt, he just drove to Napeauge. That's were Promise land was. That is what we called the Smith-Meal company, a fish processing factory back in the day. Why it was called Promise land I really don't know. I've heard a few ideas about that, but its' all just speculation. But during the late fifties and early sixties my father fired the boilers at the plant that made the steam to dry the fish. That was his job and he worked the afternoon and night shift. I don't really remember the hours just that he slept during the day and left for work in the afternoon. I remember that much because I was sent outside to play, your Fathers resting! That happened in the rain, snow, hot or cold. It was that or go read a book! The television only received two stations, channel three and eight. Nothing on during the day for us kids during weekday mornings so that wasn't an option. Staying indoors and quiet was always a challenge, unless you wanted to " help " Mom. That wasn't much fun. But, during the summer, my sister and I would often volunteer because there would be a reward. If everything was done, we would go to the beach in the afternoon. The beach meant, Sammy's beach. 

 My Mom washed and ironed clothes to help make ends meet. She had laundry to get done every day. Washing in the morning, drying and then the ironing, folding and wrapping it up. A slip of paper, the bill, would be pinned to each bundle . Only after all of that was done could we go to the beach. Well that and any other chores that needed doing. And you had to be quiet about it! Dad is resting. On the days we made it to the beach it was all worth the effort. We would help hang the clothes, no clothes dryers then, and bring them in when they got dry. You had to be careful not to get the " orders " mixed up. Usually Mom only did one customer at a time so it wasn't a big issue but one you had to be aware of it. I never gave it a thought really, we had lots of strangers clothes in our house. Never knew what might hanging on the line. 

 By mid morning Mom would be doing the ironing. I can hear the creak of that ironing board and smell the steam to this day. I would refill the sprinkle bottle for her when necessary. I could hang the shirts and pants on clothes hangers until Mom was ready to fold. I never folded the clothes, only helped with folding sheets. I still remember to this day the exact pattern to fold a bedsheet and Mom insisted it be done a certain way. Of course that was before fitted sheets were commonplace. I don't remember ever having to struggle with folding those and still don't know how to do that. Once the folding was done and those bundles made up we would be done. It was then the excitement began.

 I can remember Mom telling us to get the scotch cooler. It was a round metal one, a little dented and a few rust spots but serviceable. Sandwiches would be made and carefully wrapped in waxed paper. An apple or two, a banana or on rare occasions potato chips would be packed into that cooler. We also had a thermos style cooler with a spout on it. That held the iced tea. The picnic being assembled we couldn't wait to get to the beach. Mom had a 1956 Ford station wagon and the back would be loaded with inner tubes, beach towels, sometimes a beach umbrella and beach chairs. We were headed for Sammys! Down the springy banks road we went, snaking around until we reached a small peninsula were Sammy's beach was located. We always parked in the same spot. on the right. That's were the lot was. You could park two, three cars there at most. Others would have to park alongside the road on those busy days, like the weekends. But, we went during the week and the same few families would be there. Mom would visit with the other ladies while us kids played in the bay. They are some of my favorite memories. The smell of the bathhouses, the warmth of the sand and the sound of screeching gulls all combine in my memories. I can close my eyes I'm there, anytime. 

 Like most things from your childhood they just seem to fade away, unnoticed, at some point. The last time I can say with certainty that I went to Sammys beach with Mom would have been in 1966. I can say that because I remember well a song on the radio. Red Rubber ball by the Crykle. By then Mom had a convertible. It was a Chrysler 300G. That car was a 1961and it was awesome. My Dad picked it out. It had a 375 horsepower, 413 cubic inch V-8 and would fly! When the top was down and you were in that back seat it sure felt like you were going to take off. The interior was four bucket seats with a center console. The radio speaker in the back was right between those bucker seats. My sister and I were riding in the back, with the top down, singing along to that song. The springy banks road is a tar and chip road and far from a smooth ride. We were bouncing up and down back there, no seat belts then, and just had a blast. Mom was driving and twisting that car down the road like a snake on hot rock. She turned the radio all the way up. Yes, a ride and a day to remember. 

 I suppose we went to Sammy's a few times after that but I don't remember. Every now and again I look back and smile. Dad may have been working at Promise land, but right then I was living in it,  just a few minutes, ten minutes or so, no more. A fast car, a great song, headin' to the beach. I was with my sister enjoying the ride. Doesn't get much better than that.