Dr. Ed Iannuccilli: Summer Movies, Citronella and Mosquitoes

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli: Summer Movies, Citronella and Mosquitoes

In the ‘50s, my family rented a cottage at the Narragansett shore. We kids went to the outdoor movies on Saturday nights at a local store . . .  free, under the stars and a short walk. We received our orders:

“Take a blanket. It gets cold.”

 “Cold? Mom, I’m boilin'. It was ninety today.”

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“Listen. It gets cold here when the sun sets.”

“A blanket? I’m wearin’ my sweatshirt. I’ll look stupid with a blanket.”

“Have it your way. Mark my words, you’ll see.”

“Take the Citronella Oil,” said Aunt Della.  “The mosquitoes will eat you alive."

“Citronella? What’s that?”

“Rub it all over, even in your hair." I stuffed the bottle into my back pocket.

“And take this flashlight. You’ll need it for walking home.” She handed me Uncle Carlo’s Army flashlight with the light at right angles to the handle. I clipped it to my belt.

Set in a secluded area of the store’s grounds, adjacent to an unpaved parking lot, was a white, wooden screen attached to a short post. Above the screen was a cone-shaped speaker. Propped on a table was a two-reel projector. A black wire ran from the projector along the lot to and through a barely open store window.

A murmur welled up. Kids whistled, chanted, “Moo-vie, Moo-vie.”

“Ya gotta wait, kids. It’s too light out,” barked the jumpy projectionist. The sunset.

“Yea! A Bugs Bunny cartoon!” The crowd cheered, and then quieted.

The soft light bathing the parking lot and the one streaming from the projector attracted swarms of moths, an army of gnats and an occasional June bug that droned in like a B52. A whining buzz tickled my ears…. Zzzzz, zzzzz. I smacked my hand. Splat. Blood! Mosquitoes! Platoons arose from the camouflage of the nearby marsh; attacking like Spitfires, sparing no bare skin.

I whipped the bottle of Citronella from my pocket with the speed of a gunslinger and spread the oil on my face (ugh) neck, hands and ankles. The smell was nauseating, but not for the mosquitoes. They dove to dine.

A cool breeze from the ocean swept the bugs away for a moment. Beyond the sea, a horn blew rhythmically. The ocean’s salty dew landed softly on my face.

My sun-warmed skin was chilled; shivers preceding goose bumps. I rolled down the cuffs of my khakis and snuck my nose further into my Ivory Soap-scented sweatshirt. I wish I had that blanket. I went for a Charleston Chew. The store smelled of popcorn and warmth. At movie’s end, the crowd clapped. Two small floodlights awakened. Car engines rumbled. The foghorn stopped.

What a night! Goose bumps, bites, blood, cold, shivers and all, it was worth every moment. I whipped the flashlight off my belt and flipped it on. “Let’s move.”

As we ambled back to the cabin, we were accompanied by fireflies under a clear sky with a full moon, brilliant stars and crashing waves

A night away from the hot city, at the beach and with a movie. It meant summer.

 

Dr. Ed Iannuccilli - As 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.