BRIAN SCOTT WRITES TO Saltaire38.blogspot.com :
"They said I should contribute to the Saltaire Blog-- write down some things that I remember all my life about growing up on the Island.
Wow! Could I put it all in print? Will I be arrested?
Will anybody care?
So many memories. And where can I begin?
Can I talk about the most beautiful girls I ever saw?
I grew up on Marine Walk next to the "GREEN ROSE" and two doors down from the Melusos.…
I remember two girls-- sisters -- the most beautiful females I ever met. Godesses.
The older sister made the best pancakes I ever ate- to this day.
I would get up at the crack of Noon and wander out to the deck, bowl in hand, and begin to pick blueberries from the twenty or so bushes that surrounded my house. When my bowl was full, I went back inside and she would make these pancakes with sour cream that were out of this world. Hell, I don't even like pancakes, but they were so much more than pancakes... they were HEAVEN.
BUT WHAT I WAS REALLY GOING TO TALK ABOUT BEFORE ALL MY MEMORIES OF BEAUTIFUL GODESSES SERVING UP HEAVENLY FLAPJACKS, DISTRACTED ME, WAS ABOUT SOMETHING MUCH MORE ORDINARY: THE FLAPPER:
Everybody can remember that big flap of skin that was left hanging from the bottom of your feet between your big toe and the second toe when you hit a nail sticking up from the boardwalk. You might go two or three or four summers without getting one, but eventually we all succumbed to the inevitable Flapper.
You could always tell when someone had hit that little nail head sticking up from the boardwalk by the telltale white sock on just one foot. Or you would see an otherwise healthy little kid hobbling around on one heel.
My crazy Cousin “Love you, Dude” once went around the Village for a week with a hammer banging down every nail he could find.
It's funny how I can laugh at such a horrid memory and look back with a smile on my face.
So for all of us who experienced the horror and the pain of the flapper, and to all of those future generations yet to experience it, be advised:
Nobody will escape THE FLAPPER . It is as much a part of Saltaire as that warm feeling of the sun on your face at the beach, or the beauty of the setting sun.
"All hail the flapper."
- -Recollection by Brian Scott;
Brian recently sent us this photo of his dad Allen.
It was taken in Saltaire in the 30's. I would say
that that he looks exactly like Brian in Saltaire
in the 70's. (GF)
And the girls all get so tanned
I dig a french bikini on Hawaii island
Dolls by a palm tree in the sand .."
- SPLINTERS UNDER TOENAIL
- STEP ON RUSTY NAIL
- CUT YOUR FOOT DIGGING FOR CLAMS BAREFOOT IN THE COVE.
- Getting tar all over your feet. You may have to be older to remember this, but a long walk on the beach often left your feet stained with tar. This was probably not very harmful, but gross, and messy and hard to remove. And if the tar got on your clothes, your June Cleaver mom would have an identidy crisis, because it would never come out, no matter how much Washday Miracle she would soak it in. It was a worse nightmare than "Ring Around the collar" for Saltaire's Harriet Nelsons. They would spend the whole week scrubbing in a vain attempt to get those stains out before the Daddy Boat arrived on Friday night.