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Reflections Manhattan Beach (from Valerie Byrne Gilbert) Growing up in Manhattan Beach, pre World War II. My parents bought their first home on Marine Avenue, which was located just below the crest of the hill that ran directly to the beach. My parents wished for an ocean view so walked each night the few feet to the crest to watch the beautiful sunset. My first recollection of life in this sleepy town was sitting on my fathers lap watching my brother run along the ocean bluff catching June Bugs. The beach bluff was covered in ice plant that was native to our sea coast. The June Bugs lived in the sand and would come out in the early evening, to all our delight. Catching them and viewing their interesting bodies through one of Mothers canning jars was the best. We always let them go, but only after naming each and everyone, hoping to recognize them the next evening. We were a family of eight. Mom, Dad, Bayard, me Valerie, twins Kathy and Bern, Mary Alice and Tori. I must say these years were the most idealic any child could have wished for. Life was full of time and uncluttered by things. Our imaginations were rampant. If you were playing a game that required equipment, your mind started whirling with all the possibilities that could fabricate your need. We were experts at day dreaming. Why should we not be. Consider that all our entertainment, for the most part came through listening to books read, stories told and of course the incredible radio. The only exception would have been the La Mar Theater and its' Saturday matinee for 25 cents. We virtually had the whole town as our play ground. The Byrne kids were known far and wide and if we did anything wrong our parents knew before we returned home. Needless to say the whole community was involved in our getting respect for others right. Mother could pack us a lunch on Saturday mornings and send us to Live Oak Park and its' director John Shaw, who would keep us out of trouble and busy with crafts, Ping Pong, Tennis and a raft of other possibilities. One of my brothers' and my favorite destinations, was the Sand Dunes right next to the Police Shooting Range. All you needed was a cardboard box to ride down the treacherous sand dune and strong legs to get you back up for another shot at being the best and fastest. The beach was what set us off from most other communities and made us the envy of all our cousins, and inland friends. It was and will always be seductive. Ask any surfer. In my early days there was very little needed to go to the beach. A towel was nice but not necessary. My first ride toy was a simple canvas bag sewn by my aunt with double welted seems. It was not unlike a long narrow pillow slip. You needed only to get it wet, which made it air tight, then run down the beach, filling it with air and quickly twisting the end and tying it off with a shoelace or cord. It was incredible. You could ride the waves all day and carry it home under your arm. I know that my aunt made one for anybody who asked. To this day, I don't think anyone has found a better more portable wave rider for a kid. Even after leaving Manhattan Beach, the essence of my childhood remained with me. Time to think and to dream and live out our fantasies is a priceless gift. If you are fortunate enough to have had it, share it with others, it is infectious.
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