Cover photo: Sunken Meadow Beach at sunset (Credit – Matt Meduri)
Long Island is truly a beautiful place to live. We have the luxury of having vivid and distinct seasons, which not every place on the map gets to enjoy. As I’m sure you do, I have many great memories and nostalgic sounds and smells of the summer months on Long Island. Even though this summer is nearly gone, there’s been an even more beautiful sound that’s been added to my favorite sounds of summer.
Our summers are short here on Long Island, so much so that we don’t even wait for the actual meteorological calendar to tell us when summer starts. The weekend of Memorial Day is the start of our summer, and, of course, the end is Labor Day. In between those two unofficial start and end-of-summer dates, we pack in as much summer as possible. Some of us rush down to the beach early in the morning before the crowds arrive to listen to the waves crashing. We spend our evenings on our back deck listening to the music from the street fair in the distance, as we simultaneously perfect what’s on the barbecue while fighting the mosquitoes. Every day around noon, we hear that familiar tune of the ice cream man, which many have called New York’s groundhog who only arrives when it’s summer. How could I forget the constant fireworks, the locusts, and the Subway Series playing from every other open window as the humidity breaks on a July evening. If you’re lucky enough to live near our many miles of shoreline, you may also love the sounds of families loading onto their boats and the rumble of the boat engine before it departs for a full day on the water.
With all of those beautiful sounds of summer, there’s a sound I’ve come to love this year specifically. It’s been produced by our new neighbors who purchased the house next door last year and are spending their first full summer enjoying their home. The gentleman next door works extremely hard, leaving the house well before the sun comes up, and returning from work just in time for dinner.
I mow the lawn once a week usually around the time he arrives home. Maybe I now purposely plan for that time so I can hear my new favorite sound, or maybe I’m genuinely just getting older and can’t take the mid-day humidity anymore.
Back in June, I was just finishing the backyard and walking the turned-off mower to the front to cut the front lawn next. As I arrived in the front yard, his gray pickup truck drove by. As he parked, gathered his lunch cooler, and exited the truck, the two little producers of this beautiful sound ran to the front yard to greet him, as they do every evening around 6:00.
“Papi, Papi, Papi!” (Daddy in Spanish) scream both of his two daughters as they run to grab his work pants full of the days soil. The girls are only four and five years old and apparently wait all day to see their father. He leaves for work before they wake up, so this is their time to see their Papi. In their little voices are no fear, no uncertainty, and no facade at all. They are undeniably so excited to see him. Even me, just an onlooker, could clearly see and hear that.
This beautiful sound and scene usually conclude with him quickly changing into swimming trunks and playing in their pool with his daughters. Did I forget to mention how much I love hearing summer’s sound of water splashing while children are laughing as well?
But the girls greeting their Dad is definitely my favorite sound of them all.
