there’s a short, somewhat steep hill descent from the parking lot to medina beach. logan didn’t measure her enthusiasm for getting to the water appropriately and ended up skinning her knee running down the hill and for the rest of the week she asked everyone to look at the “ouchie” she got at “dad’s beach”.

its “dad’s beach” because i swam here nearly every day of summer from the ages of ten through twelve. its also the last place i remember feeling like a kid. when we left medina, we moved to crossroads and i started junior high school not knowing a soul. i was a dorky looking kid, with crazy out of control curly hair, glasses and good grades. the worst possible combination for the new kid in school.

so, to adjust i rapidly went to work toughening up my image. by the beginning of eighth grade i had become well known as one of the most rowdy kids in school. my friends at that time weren’t known to keep regular attendance at school or to come calling at conventional hours or through the conventional front door. my bedroom was in the basement, far from my mother’s bedroom and had the perfect window for teenagers to jump through. this was a perfect arrangement for me and the dozens of kids who were routinely entering my room all through the night. only our next door neighbor seemed to mind.

he had talked to my mom, confronted a few kids in transit and scowled at me when we met at the mailbox but nothing changed the activity level at my window. finally one night three of my friends were coming to the window when they snagged their feet on string that was wired up to a bunch of aluminum cans and pie pans. as soon as the cans and pans started clanging a huge spotlight went on and the neighbor jumped out of the bushes with a camera and started taking pictures. seems he thought we were dealing drugs out the window and he was going to catch us red handed.

i never got to see his pictures, but the expression on his face when my friends passed him by, jumped in my window and entered my room, in spite of the booby trap, is a look i don’t need a photograph to recall.