One of my fondest memories growing up was going to Daytona Beach every year with my family. We would drive the old station wagon on the beach and “camp” between the lighthouse and the water. I never learned to swim till Iwas 16 and my best friend couldn’t swim either. My dad would have one of us hanging on each arm and he would take us out to the sandbar. We would play out there for awhile then we would grab his arms again and he would take us back to shore.
We would take trips to the Boardwalk. My dad knew some of the workers and we would walk, talk to everyone, play games. Pop was very good at pitching nickels and we would take home sets of goblets that were blood red. Any odd pieces he would win, he let me have them for my playhouse at home.
I remember going to Bradenton Beach a few times but it was nothing compared to Daytona. I believe that’s where I fell in love with lighthouses.
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