Seaside Gothic

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Some Belong to the Ocean

Some Belong to the Ocean by Rita Ciresi

Each July our parents piled us four girls into the hot Galaxy 500 and Dad—depending on how much he’d bagged at the racetrack—drove us either down to the Jersey shore or up to Cape Cod.

The shore was honky-tonk—Skee-Ball and ring toss stands on the boardwalk, Tilt-O-Whirls and Ferris wheels lit up like Christmas trees at night. On the beach, clots of spiny brown seaweed stuck in our tangled hair and rocky sand collected in our bathing suit bottoms. The waves were tall enough to knock us over.

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