Rose Goes Rogue

Musings from a Georgia Girl in NYC

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A day at the beach. @beebtastic @schlussman @zacharygong @h2oecologista  (at Rockaway Beach - 98th Street)

A day at the beach. @beebtastic @schlussman @zacharygong @h2oecologista (at Rockaway Beach - 98th Street)

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Peekamoose state park. Sunday adventure. On three.

Filed under new york upstate swimming holes

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Sing us a song, accordions…..

An impromptu visit to Bryant Park on a Tuesday afternoon, this is what happens - accordions from all over come and serenade.

Filed under accordion bryant park ny

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Maine: I Remember Nothing, Except One Day


Was it just once we sat on the floating dock at high tide? What day was the bike ride? How many miles did we run? What were the charade clues and did we have lobster or lamb for dinner that night?

Here is what I do remember: Clara overcome, rolls on her back and lets out the sweetest giggle you ever heard. Amy’s head bobbing in the bay, the cold water her favorite place to be, calling her multiple times a day. My mother setting out the bloody mary assembly line in the kitchen. My father reminding my mother it was 5:30, and should they go to the wine store before it closed? Did we have enough rosé? And Ralph donning a new polo shirt late in the evening; “My tag is my swag.”

What I really remember is the day to remember: clear, crisp and sunny – like a day carved out and given to you by a patron of your wellbeing. We ran to the falls. Ralph brought life vests. We climbed over the rail. Emily asked if we were counting to three? Clara said when do you count to five? And we jumped. It was so cold and the current so fast, and the eddy so welcoming, you couldn’t help the giggles.

Wet bodies in the car, dock the next destination. Snacks and lunch – a salami sandwich and a smorgesborg, complimentary of Ralph. I laid on the dock with Clara. Hadn’t I laid on the dock with Clara the entire afternoon the day before? I remember every curve of her body, and her blanket and kindle and giggle, but not the day or the length of time. She never wore sunglasses.

We moved to the beach and Clara and I shoved some young girls off the floating dock and then found hermit crabs and thought about how fast the years are going.

Then we were back on our dock. Emily leaning back and listening to A Hundred Years of Solitude and Clara sunbathing and Amy reading. I laid there, Fever Dream surrounding me, feeling the warmth of the wood, surrounded by the women, I felt an emotion well up from within me felt it around and the water rocked us gently and I felt the core something, something pure.

Amy made a sound of surprise and laughter – I looked up and above the four silent women was Ralph, standing at the top of the stairs and purveying the scene and the water like a royal and distinguished boat captain. It was hilarious.

We noshed. Then my parents took 45 minutes to get in a kayak.

I went up to the lawn and Clara scratched my back and I scratched hers and she told me how beautiful I was, I was her muse.

Emily came up and we played parlor games on the lawn with the perfect bay as our backdrop. We found sparklers and a black and mild and made infinite trips for water, then bug spray, continuously moving our chairs in the sunlight. It’s all shits and giggles, isn’t it? We were sisters and friends and the jokes felt like they were muddled from 1993 leftovers spawning into the present - new and modern and beautiful and wacky and crass.

We never changed out of our bikinis or put anything over them. Sap dripped on us from the pine, and the tide was going out and we sat together until the very last minute.

Dusk. Dinner hour approaching, wrap it up girls. We ran ran ran to the dock and screamed and laughed like the 12 year old girls we saw earlier. We missed our chance to ride to on a speed boat – Clara wouldn’t entertain the thought. Although it would have been a nice way to top of the fucking day Emily said. But Clara was already concerned about the time and dinner and her mother.

The water was cold and the mackerel were doing a scary swirl near the dock but we did jump in and jumped out and ran to the house to shower and dress in a frenzy. Clara said we are the slowest family and it is mostly true.

Caravan cars in the sunset. We walked through a makeshift kitchen in a makeshift house and out to a field of flowers with picnic tables and lounging families. A type of byo restaurant. Kisses and greetings between family friends and then we settled down to lambrusco, pizza, and salad and toasts and memories and adult realizations.

Ralph drove us girls home and when Clara screamed for him to stop and look at a wedding venue he told her, maybe this is how you lose the boyfriends? We were all laughter, (and we all have lost boyfriends and although we think about how we lost them and analyze what we had and what we did and what we want we don’t really care where the old ones go, and that’s the truth) and we got home and Ralph made a fire and researched my next amazon purchase. We are in comfy clothes and sitting around the hearth and hear a loud BOOM!

Out on the point of the lawn, the caretaker set off fireworks. We hurry outside and take positions on the grass under the dark night and milky stars and ooohhhed and ahhhed and cheered with each firecracker he set off for his wife’s birthday.

And just before the last shebang, which was full of colors and streamers and the faded silvery gold soft threads – he went to light the fuse and said in the dark: “This one’s for you my love.”

Filed under maine