Childhood bliss on family boat

I close my eyes and conjure up memories of childhood. A vivid and happy recollection of mine is time spent at Aunt Flo and Uncle Fred Rohe's house.

"Are we there yet? How much longer?"

Did I say that or was it my younger sister, Eileen? We are in Dad's 1958 station wagon traveling down the Southern State Parkway, sans seat belts, of course.

"What exit is it?" we ask mom. "Look for Exit 32," she replies for the 10th time. We have left our sixth-floor apartment in the sky in Queens for our country getaway. We are on our way to Lindenhurst, and into the loving arms of the Rohes.

Aunt Flo and Uncle Fred have no children, except us! And oh, how they spoil the two of us!

We arrive on South Seventh Street, the country. It is a small white bungalow with black shutters and a detached garage. Behind this mansion is a beautiful canal with a dock that runs from one end of the property to the next. In the water floats Uncle Fred's beloved My Flo, our 16-foot yacht. He has the boat loaded with our fishing gear, clamming shoes made of old tires, life preservers that scratch your underarms and, of course, refreshments for the adults.

We quickly put on bathing suits.

"Flo, do you have the sandwiches and camera?" Fred shouts.

"You bet," she replies. "Let's go!"

As my sister and I sit in the back between Aunt Flo and Mom, I close my eyes and enjoy the sights and sounds. I hear the seagulls above us, they know we have bait and will share, but not yet. I smell the saltwater and feel the breeze on my face. The sun overhead is warm and it fills me with happiness. The day is spent swimming, fishing, drinking and eating, but the laughter is my best memory.

At day's end, we enter our canal from the Great South Bay and Uncle Fred lifts us onto the front of the boat where we sit against the boat windshield. Two sun-kissed princesses, regally waving to the neighbors. Behind us our captains steer the boat home. We are safe, we are lucky, and we are loved.

The women ready the table for dinner while the men clean fish and shuck clams. Our evening meal always ends with Aunt Flo's delicious ice cream sundaes in the glamorous 5&10-store dishes. We say goodbye with hugs and kisses and head back to Queens.

Fifty-plus years later, I return to this place of my childhood. A new family has taken down the bungalow and built a beautiful new home. The only thing remaining is a black lamppost with a metal fish ornament and a new name. But it's OK, my memories will last for my lifetime. I wish all good memories for this family as well.