Hallandale 1969

Beautiful Gulfstream Park Hallandale

Anticipating the sea

we load the baby blue Cadillac

with an inflatable raft

a bucket and shovel

snorkel and flippers

a blanket and towels

folding aluminum chairs

a transistor radio

 two longboards

my fabulous mother

 my brother Ricky
my sister Deanie

and me
little Jo Pat.

my mother’s hair ablaze in Lucy red

her cat-eyed sunglasses
her tangerine lips
her dazzling smile

My brother and sister
sun-bleached teens
hop in the rear

I’m 3 feet tall

 a round brown belly

 my favorite leopard print bikini

I stand up in the front seat alongside my mom

 black vinyl scorches the back of my legs

we pull out of our driveway
shells crackling
radio blaring

I sing out

“Ladadada Good Morning Star-shine
the earth says hello”

We pass tutti-frutti colored homes with white barrel-tiled roofs

pass mango avocado coconut grapefruit trees

 overflowing yards

we make our way to Hallandale Beach Boulevard

there’s the rickety wooden farmhouse that later mesmerized me
when I watch it burn to the ground

we pass Barnett’s Hardware
where you can get “Anything and Everything”

stuff made from Lucite!

On the north corner
just before Dixie Highway
a Spanish style stucco building
a laundry mat within

 pink washers peek through mint-green doorways

Now we go over the railroad tracks of Dixie Highway

there’s Nick’s
where the men drink endless cups of coffee
eat eggs and grits

and smoke cigarettes while handicapping the upcoming races

ANNNND, THEY’RE OFF!…
I see Gulfstream race track

the sweet smell of horse sweat and manure wafts through the car

it’s where my dad spends more time than at home

where cousin Marie found her passion and lost her mind

We pass the huge screens of the drive-in

surrounded by moss-laden oaks

a colorful jungle of coral vine and bitter melon

 cicadas buzz and giant dragonflies swoon

next door to Publix grocers

“Where Shopping is a pleasure”

and where droves of crimson land crabs die in the parking lot

crunched beneath the tires of devoted housewives

 next to the big cement arches of Golden Isles

where the rich, well-groomed people live

At last, we loll over the bridge of the Intracoastal Waterway

garnished with sailboats fishing boats and yachts

then they are behind us

We approach the massive lime-green cistern on a soaring pedestal

“City of Hallandale” in cursive across the girth

beside it a sea-beaten motel

a grid of rooms boasting air conditioning units

metal boxes hanging out of each window

rust stains and mildew painting the plaster walls

I take in the ocean and the seaside aromas

a mix of saltwater

seaweed

suntan oil

burgers and fries

I hear waves rolling then crashing

a multitude of radio’s playing at once

children screaming and laughing

a lifeguard blowing his whistle at someone who swam out too far

a small plane puttering as it tows its banner across the horizon

 we’ve arrived

a joy wells up inside me

knowing that living treasure awaits me on the jetty

tiny crustaceans,  weird bugs seashell jewels

the tide washes over me and the sun bakes me

My mom lounges and reads

Ricky and Deanie surf

I climb the jetty

forever young at this place which never leaves me