We Were Sent to the Coloreds Beach
We had been to this beach several times without incident. My uncle. My brothers and me. Today, however, two cousins came along. We were looking forward to a fun day in the sun.
My uncle handed a sweaty man the tickets. “Five?’ The man asked without looking up. My uncle nodded in agreement. He went through the turn style first.
He hoisted the ice chest onto his shoulder and took a few steps in with us trailing behind.
We were queued up to enter. The man counted us in. The first three of us were allowed to enter. Our cousins were turned back.
They yelled, “Hey those are our cousins over there!” The man asked, “Where?” pointing in our direction. He gestured for us to come back.
He whisked us through the turn style exit at the gate.
My uncle was upset. Two men walked him through the gate. One on each side. It looked for a moment things would get ugly.
My uncle reverted to his jovial way and walked us over to the “Coloreds Only” entrance. I was too young to read. I had no idea what was going on.
My uncle tried to salvage the day, but that side of the beach bore little resemblance to the other side.
There was one small concession stand. Trash. Broken bottles and cans lined the shores.
There were only a few patches of sand clear enough to lay down a blanket.
We didn’t stay long. We were all disappointed. It was so different from previous trips there.
We never came back.
I was confused. I still wasn’t sure what happened.
Months later the incident was explained to me.
My uncle said I asked him if we should leave our cousins home next time.
