Submitted by Roberta Ann Afflitto
At a time when I was experiencing loss and sadness, I moved to Coney Island. It took me a while to make friends, but when I did – every day became an adventure. We would walk down Surf Avenue, moving to the uplifting sound of the carousel. We’d ride it and attempt to catch the golden ring to earn another ride. The aromas of grilling hot dogs and French fries made us quicken our steps to reach Nathan’s. The crunch of that first bite gave our tastebuds a salty, yummy treat. Then on to play games such as skeetball.
As we got older, we felt more daring, like someone on a cliff ready to jump with a bungee cord. My friends and I (now including boys) went on the Wonder Wheel, bumper cars and the Thunderbolt. We never quite made it on to the Cyclone. Brooklyn was filled with new places to explore as we went further each time: Sheepshead Bay, King’s Highway, Prospect Park and eventually Greenwich Village in New York City; then on to the museums. The excitement and fun of living in Coney Island motivated us to reach out and discover new places that were only a bus or train ride away. A world of new experiences was unfolding as we grew.