Warmth of the Sun

by Eva Pasco, author of "Underlying Notes"

As I channel surf adolescent Sixties summer memories, the tide washes in nostalgic debris of The Beach Boys and beach party movies with Gidget & Moondoggie, and Frankie & Dee Dee trudging through the sand in “The Warmth of the Sun” (1964).  What good is the dawn/ That grows into day/ The sunset at night/ Or living this way…For I have the warmth of the sun/ Within me at night…

A smattering of Sixties summer films from The Video Beat, sundrenched with rock ‘n roll groups of the times include: 

Beach Party (1963):  the first of the beach movie series stars Bob Cummings as an anthropologist studying teenage mating habits; song performances by Dick Dale and The Del-Tones. 

Beach Blanket Bingo (1965): a missing pop star, mermaid, and Eric Von Zipper’s gang; songs performed by The Hondels, Frankie, Annette, Donna Loren, Linda Evans, and Brian Wilson. 

It's a Bikini World (1967): one of the last beach movies; song performances by the Animals, the Toys, the Gentrys, and the Castaways.  

For I have the warmth of the sun…  ScarboroughBeach. My sister and I built a uniform circle of Levittown sand castles by filling up our plastic pails and tipping their molded contents. I don’t recall which one of us kept running back and forth with sea water to pour into the thirsty moat we dug. I have my suspicions as my younger sister was very bossy.  

 Once our appetite crested from the salty air, we’d sit cross-legged on our blanket to scoff grinders my mother packed in the cooler. I never failed to ingest a couple of sand grains with the contents of my sandwich.  If my sister and I thought we’d down our lunch and race to the water, we had another thing coming.  My mother insisted we wait an hour before going in the water-- and we couldn’t even swim!   

My sister and I bided our time by collecting the largest seashells we could find to paint and serve as my dad’s ash trays. Once, we found a huge piece of seaweed resembling an anaconda and claimed it for our booty. These priceless treasures from the sea always stunk to high heaven during the transport home. 

When my mother announced, “Just a few more minutes,” we knew the drill.  Time to put on those ugly bathing caps—a rubber bath mat fashioned into a helmet with a chin strap. If ever the lifeguard issued a shark warning, I’m sure we wouldn’t have heard it while the bathing caps pressed against our ears.   

The beach tends to cling like sand stuck to towels, car mats, and inside your swimsuit. For me, adolescent memories of basking in the warmth of the sun extend throughout the sunsets of each passing year. 

Check out Eva's Blog

Order Eva's Book "Underlying Notes"

Eva is now on Facebook