White rubber bathing caps with straps, to keep our hair dry, which they really didn't do since they never fit all that well; cousins, lined up like bathing beauties, all dressed alike in purple plaid swim suits. . .Aunt Jenny never forgot any of us. . .these are the visions that I remember of Willow Beach, one of the fondest memories I have of my childhood. Willow Beach was a small swimming quarry in the middle of farmland in Lancaster, New York. Being there, for us, was like being at the ocean. . .this was our summer. Thanks to my Aunt Jenny, we got to enjoy it on a regular basis.
The smells are unforgettable as well. . .hamburgers grilling at the concession stand; Coppertone suntan lotion; and a multi-stall outhouse that we all dreaded using.
We always parked our blankets on the north side of the beach (opposite of the outhouse). Directly behind us was a hill with a railroad track. When we heard the train whistle, we all waved in delight to the conductor, who always waved back to us.
My Aunt Florence tells me that my cousin Karen (the smallest bathing beauty), lost her plaid suit right after this photo was taken. . .I think that maybe Karen lost it on purpose.
Now, this quarry is home to a housing development, where each home backs up to the water. I figure that the house that's built where the outhouse once was, must have the greenest grass!!
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