Grouchy Old Man Part 2

By Lou Pastina
I know I will get a lot of flak for this column, but I have to say something about the current state of things in Rockaway. Several weeks ago, on a federal holiday, the media scared the bejesus out of New York about a heat wave. The result was that we had an unbelievable amount of people descend upon the Rockaways and its beaches. This was hopefully great for the merchants, but because not all beaches are open, and those that are, aren’t all staffed with lifeguards, there was very little room on the sand. In addition, I watched traffic from my mini-mermaid daughter’s house go over the Cross Bay bridge, bumper-to-bumper for three hours. I can’t even imagine what the line at the ferry looked like. Driving in Rockaway was at an all-time slowdown, not to mention the inability to park anywhere. This little peninsula is not ready for prime time. We need infrastructure, parking, rules, lifeguards, completed beaches, just to name a few things.
For many years, my extended family and I traveled over the 4th of July weekend. It was in honor of my mom’s passing, and it was a way to keep my dad in the company of his many grandkids and smiling through a difficult time of year for him. When Covid hit, we discontinued the trips for obvious reasons, but it had the benefit of us being back home for the 4th. Over the recent years, it has become a trend for the locals to celebrate the 4th with professional grade pyrotechnic displays. And not from a barge out in the ocean like the old days under the supervision of trained professionals. Nope, it happens right on the beach, boardwalk, anywhere a fuse can be lit. And it is not a fifteen-minute thing, it’s more like an hour accompanied by huge explosions. The displays are truly beautiful to watch, but to anyone with little kids that need to sleep, or dogs highly afraid of such displays, it’s a long night. Then there are the strays, you know the guys who discover at 3 a.m. in the morning that they still have several M-80’s to set off. In other words, it seems to have gotten completely out of hand. I remember as a kid, if a cop caught you with firecrackers or an “ash-can” as they used to call them, they would confiscate everything you had. Nowadays you can set off an explosion and nothing happens. I know, I know, I am the grouchy old man telling the kids to stop playing in his daisies, but at some point, enough is enough.
Now the next complaint will surely land me in trouble with several groups. When did Rockaway suddenly become Saint- Tropez? This isn’t the south of France, and the fairer sex shouldn’t be wearing dental floss as a bathing suit on the beach. I mean, I love the female form, but shouldn’t some things be better left to the imagination? I’ve not seen so many moonshots since Darryl Strawberry was playing for the Mets. Again, a little modesty, decency, and respect for families with kids would go a long way. Amazingly, with the scantily clad women come boys who aren’t fazed one way or another. They dress like they just rolled out of bed and haven’t considered what to wear for one moment. Can we all be from the same species?
I don’t know when I got so old and grumpy, but I don’t like it. I’d rather be cheery and fun-loving. But community safety, decency, rules for the beach, maybe we can get back to being a sleepy little town again. I love Rockaway, don’t get me wrong; I would not want to live anywhere else. Here’s hoping for a great, long summer!