A Summer Love – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

A Summer Love – Dr. Ed Iannuccilli

This week, we watched a movie, ‘Summer of ’42’, that reminded me of a summer love I had so many years ago, No, I did not come of age as did Hermie in the movie. Nonetheless, it rekindled a memory of the summer of ’52 when I was thirteen and staying at our rental cottage at the Rhode Island shore.

One evening, as I was playing softball in the small, grassy field in front of our cabin, a girl with blond hair tied in a ponytail ambled along, silhouetted against the sinking sun. I shielded my eyes. She turned, smiled, raised her hand and scrunched a wave. I looked around. She was waving at me!

I rose to my toes, brushed my sweatshirt and started a slow walk. I stopped to tighten my belt, then picked up the pace. 

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She was tall and so pretty. Her eyes were soft and sparkly. Her smile, highlighted by her tan, was wide and bright. I took my hat off and ran my hand over the stubble of my rah-rah. After an inaugural silence, I eked out a “Hi.” I was looking for her to run with my opening. She did.

 “Hi. I saw you playing.” She fiddled with her gimp bracelet. I had a gimp bracelet.

  “Oh, yeah, thanks,” being among my better responses. I put my right hand in my pocket; the left still in the glove. I looked into her blue eyes.

“What’s your name? I’m Ann. I’m staying with a friend. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. Or maybe at the outdoor movies on Saturday. You go to the movies, don’t you?” 

Meet? The outdoor movies? My favorite. “Yes. I love them.” As she turned, her ponytail swung lightly in rhythm with her steps. I ran at top speed back to the game. Uncle Carlo smiled as I sped by.  

The next morning, I bounded out of bed, slipped on my bathing suit, skipped breakfast and hustled to the beach. No Ann. The rest of the week was no different. During the days, I walked the beach, but she was never there. On Saturday evening, I sped to the outdoor movie. Ann was not there either. I never saw her again. 

The beach beckoned us by day and captured us by night with its steady cadence of rising sun, crashing waves, cool breezes, and the moon’s reflections. This year, there was more. Something stirred in me for the first time. 

At July’s end, it was time to return to the city. One evening, I sat on a rock, the infinite rhythm of the ocean ticking like the metronome of music class. It wasn’t the melancholy-last-days-of-summer ticking. It was the melancholy ticking of the last days of summer at the beach.

Those days filled me with joy, molding the early days of youth, the memory of a fleeting moment adding even more. From that instant, things started to change.

Those days of long ago happened in a world of crabbing and Noxzema and outdoor movies. Adolescence was somehow more innocent then.

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli is the author of three popular memoirs, “Growing up Italian; Grandfather’s Fig Tree and Other Stories”, “What Ever Happened to Sunday Dinner” and “My Story Continues: From Neighborhood to Junior High.”  Learn more here.