Hot Hazy Humid Then and Now

picnic at mayo beach 1940

It is hot which is nothing new here in Washington, DC in the summertime. What is new is the heat index which is telling us how hot we FEEL. I could live without that. I have been living through these sweltering summers almost all of my life, but it's disconcerting now to know small children and older people should not even be breathing the air. On these hot summer days all eyes turn toward the Eastern Shore.

Way back when, before the Chesapeake Bay Bridges, a trip to the beach was most likely by car or ferry and did not necessarily mean the Atlantic Ocean. Ferries could take you to places like Betterton Beach or St Michael's- once thriving water front communities. Now you can still find sleepy piers on either side of the bay while the traffic swarms down Route Fifty towards Rehobeth or Ocean City.

My parents, George and Bebe, used to go to beaches on the DC side of the bay like Chesapeake Beach, Mayo, and Woodland. There were nets to catch the nettles that didn't work very well, and the water was shallow, but it was wet, and hopefully a breeze was stirring the air. Cousins Koula and Thelma had a cottage in North Beach, and their friend, Johnny Monaco had a place in South Beach. Johnny would catch soft shells or fish for dinner. Sometimes my parents would sneak into the dances at Beverly Beach where no "immigrants" or "Mediterraneans" were allowed, but my DC born "Greek" father was light haired and blue eyed and got away with passing.