Summertime in Atlantic City, NJ

Early Saturday evening in the South Inlet, cira 1977...

After checking in at home for a bathroom break and some dinner -- I'd just eaten too fast -- I dart back out of the house on my way to the Altman Field playground before my mom could remember to yell "stay in here!" First, I stop across the street at the Lighthouse Park to join the slow building crowd around Puerto Rican conga players. They are banging out some Latino rhythms as they alternate between tokes of cigarettes and sips of Budweiser.

Before long, I sneak pass the house and head across the glass strewn dirt lots along the way which had long since become overgrown with weeds knee high.

Out of earshot for my mother's call, I make my way to the corner of Pacific and New Hampshire Avenues. I am consumed with the familiar smell of fumes from Jitney exhaust breezing through the salty air.

Against the clanging of overinflated Dr. J basketballs rebounding off the too loose rims, I hear the steady lap of the ocean colliding with the rocks of the t-jetties on the little beach.

It' s just after dusk. I'm going on thirteen...and I am in-my-world.