Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 548

 

Here are a couple of excerpts from a book I recently read, "Speaking of Atlantic City: Recollections and Memories," by Janet Robinson Bodoff and Leesa Toscano.

At seven years old, the most glamorous thing I ever saw was Miss America contestants riding down the boardwalk dressed in sparkly outfits on the back of shiny new cars. As if that was not exciting enough, the cars were interspersed with floats covered by tons of beautiful flowers, glitter and streamers. I can s till recall the scent of those floats festooned with what seemed like a million blooms. Mingled with the ocean breeze, it was pure perfume. Oh, how I wanted one of those flowers.

My first visit to the parade was magical, and returning to the parade is still as exciting to this grownup. When I was seven, my mom brought my little brother and me to the parade, as her mom had brought her. Like so many other little girls, we dreamed of fancy dresses, tiaras, and unattainable beauty. We were not the first. Generations of little girls had the same dreams.

For those who could not afford a hotel stay, a day trip to the shore was a family treat. To save money, day-trippers brought their lunch to the beach in shoe boxes and forevermore became known as shoobies to the locals.