OUR EARLIEST HOT SUMMER BEACH DAYS
BY DON DOUCETTE
Our earliest hot summer beach days as kids usually included a drive to Horseneck Beach in Westport, Massachusetts – the old Horseneck Beach prior to the 50s hurricanes and the following “restoration” and re-designation as a State Beach Reservation.
Gone with the beach restoration was the earlier quaintness and rural charm associated with the beach approach through the stone walled lanes and holly woods of Old Westport.
Many may not know, Westport years ago as a singular rural municipality outproduced all other individual milk producing towns in Massachusetts.
Gone are those many Currier and Ives dairy farms. Only the stone walls remain harkening as a vanished vapor. The majority of those former dairy pastures are lost to housing development.
Gone is the original bridge crossing of the Westport River, East Branch as the main beach approach is abandoned today as a charming dead end where picturesque commercial fishing boats now moor.
Today, Route 79 is the modern primary approach to a much busier Horseneck Beach. A quick in-and-out route off I-195 for modern beachgoers totally aloof nor caring for the thrill and ecstasy as we kids experiencing former beach day runs to Horseneck Beach years ago along insect buzzing rural byways and the sweet smells of fresh mown hay.
Always expected was the ocean-side haze and the sudden cool feeling in the air as we got closer to the beach.
Gone are the casual roadside picnic spots under pitch pine canopies with the thick sweet-smelling pine needle ground covering on which we spread our picnic blankets.
And the thrill as kids of anticipating a picnic lunch near the beach – remember, the sound of the breaking surf was our constant background music helping to set the scene.
Such a beautiful and constantly carried beach breezed sound with a natural soothing cadence. And, calling gulls, always the calling of gulls.
Sandwiches were individually packed at home by our mother and neatly wrapped in waxed paper.
Most usually hard-boiled eggs mashed and mixed with canned Underwood Deviled Ham and including for variety, Zito’s Market cold cuts i.e. German bologna or olive loaf all on buttered bread with mustard spread and with fresh lettuce, and including cool and fresh real juice drinks, crisps and fresh-cut dark green and round watermelon with actual seeds, as God intended.
We kids spit and arched for competitive distance the melon seeds into the tree line; a type of passage rite for children of the day – the remainder of our trash traveled home with us for logical disposal.
The cold ice in our vintage old Coca Cola cooler was ritually obtained earlier in the day at the Attleboro Ice Company on Pleasant Street in Attleboro – all before the advent of bagged ice vending machines.
It was block ice stored in freezer lockers with heavy and thick hatch door entries – the block ice was reduced to random sized chunks done with sturdy ice picks and placed into our cooler in situ.
The journey between Attleboro and Horseneck Beach was always magical – through rural Rehoboth and Swansea via Route 118 and transitioning through the old textile mill City of Fall River along old Route 6.
Route I-195 did not exist.
The ride up Presidential Avenue in Fall River was unsurpassable and thrilling…while the gut butterflies experienced up and over each side street terrace were pure fun intended, I’m convinced, during early Creation solely for the pleasure of kids and never anticipated by civil engineers.
Through the Fall River Flint District heights and between the Watuppa waters where seaplanes moored and past White’s Restaurant of today and back into the rural actuality of Westport with its mouth-watering street-side veggie, peach and strawberry stands.
All gone, now.
Gone for us especially was the expected stop on the way home at the Westport town well for several cool clear glass gallons of fresh well water – a particular unencumbered delicacy favored by our mother. A little to ask reward for preparing our many delightful picnic lunches enjoyed those many times beside the naturally musical summer seaside.
And those rides for us as kids were in the family vehicle of the day, a vintage Ford pickup truck. We rode in the load bed happy as all-get-out sitting on old blankets along with the ice cooler and other beach requirements.
There were high side boards with a tie-down canvas cover for shade and protection from sudden summer showers. This was normal operating procedure.
And great fun.
While in this deeply personal narrative, I’ve taken you on a nostalgic summer journey to and from Horseneck Beach in Westport, Massachusetts.
Never to the beach itself.
Those experiences remain in my heart and in my memory as in a special golden locket.
Don Doucette