Coney Island '84

In August 1984, I had been living in New York City for exactly six years, first in Manhattan and then in Brooklyn. I had also thoroughly adopted what I have thought of as an annual summertime custom if not an essential ritual of going to Coney Island among other city beaches. I had been there almost every year with friends, my girlfriend or alone and the habit has continued ever since. It just wasn't summer without a visit via my bicycle or by subway to sea, sand and sun, most often at Coney Island and its contiguous Brighton Beach, but also at Orchard Beach (the Bronx), as well as the Rockaways and Jacob Riis Park (Queens). When I had a car, I included Jones Beach (Long Island) on the list of beaches to visit.

There is something truly special about walking past the amusement park rides, reaching the boardwalk and arriving at the edge of the vast shimmering ocean where it meets the blue sky, then walking along the water's edge while watching kids, teenagers, parents and the elderly playing, chasing or simply relaxing on a blanket while reading a book or listening to music, and sometimes just sleeping.

I carried a portable music player (now a cell phone) and listened to new and old music by my favorite singers and music groups via headphones or earbuds. That year, I added "Every Breath You Take" and other songs from the Police's album Synchronicity to my list of songs.

I always took pictures of people and their activities at the beach. At some point I also took self-portraits to remember the days in a personal way. I now have such photos spanning the almost five decades.

There was and remains nothing like summer at the beach.