Katy Did, a longtime Rockaway summer resident finally moved into a Rockaway coop.
Katy found her droopy cramped stifling Bronx apartment too uncomfortable to continue living there. The opportunity of a change was there, so Katy moved lock, stock and barrel.
Katy loved the Rockaways. Her migraines went away and her breathing became normal. Katy attributed the miraculous cures on the glories of nature. The ocean air swirled around her. She was fascinated by the playful waters as they slapped the jutting rocks, and the hippoty-hops of the hungry birds as they swooped downwards picking and pecking at the left over crumbs which nestled in the sand.
Katy Did called herself a fresh-air fiend. You can find Katy in the early mornings walking the boardwalk. We met in a peculiar way. One day, I also walked, but, at the same time kept my eyes downward to avoid the exposed holes and rotten planks. Katy did the same thing. We practically bumped head to head as we straightened out.
Katy loved to talk, to laugh, and to philosophize. We would meet and talk on this and that and most anything. Katy believed that without a sense of humor, you are dead and dull, I agreed. Katy believed that to get along in this world one must compromise, be understanding and tolerant. A good thought.
The other day I met Katy in the laundry room ambitiously folding her clothes. She told me that today was her bingo night, and that she had a hunch she would win. Katy took the bus to Brooklyn, it didn’t work. Katy always needed a number to win. She said "next time."
Katy did not own an air conditioner, for the most part she did not need one. Her apartment faced the ocean and the bay. Cross ventilation gave a natural cool breeze.
Katy often thought "what a fool I was for not moving to the Rockaways years ago. A great place to live, and great expectations for the Rockaway Peninsula to become a first-rate resort." Take my word, there is nothing like rocking away in Rockaway.