My youth was inextricably tied to the environment of beach and ocean. I spent every weekend and all summer at Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. My world consisted of sand, shells, waves, breeze and sea life. Hot sand under my feet, coolness under the boardwalk. In fact, "under the boardwalk" took on an almost mystical allure. It was a relatively private spot, shadowed, separate, unseen As a teenager, I hid there to smoke. And I would look under the boardwalk for treasures dropped by the thousands of walkers.

    My grandmother had a daily routine involving canasta games at the beach club, Brighton Beach Baths, then a slow, paced swim between. Bay 2 and Bay 3, then steamroom and shower. In fact, one of my early memories is of my grandmother taking me with her into the women's locker area and women's showers. Everyone was wrinkled and tan. Many spoke Yiddish.

 
  Brighton Beach Baths had a culture, a Gestalt that is now long gone. Sports, tanning in a solarium, card games Mah Jongg, gossip, drinking. And the ocean itself--majestic, salty, home to millions of jellyfish, clams, mussels, crabs, occasional washed-up sharks, a rare whale, porgies, dragonfish, bluefish, flounder. And sea gulls, persistent, vociferous, watchful.

 
  By the time I was a teenager, I had become quite marginal because I was not athletic. I was mediocre at paddle tennis, pretty good but not terribly interested in handball, and downright awful at basketball. My family's social life continued to be centered around the Baths, but I no longer wanted to be there. The streets of Sheepshead Bay, Coney Island and Gravesend were much more alluring, with their promises of intrigues, exotic girls (as in "not Jewish"), and more... illicit activities.

 
  I stopped going to the beach during the days but I loved going there at night. Sitting in the lifeguards' tall chairs, looking out at the expanse of stars, at that magical space where sea and sky kissed. Those nights, when I was16 and my life was as wide open and possible as that ocean, are enduring memories. My life was that beach. But no more. Never again.