Summer Story Chapter 2 - Harold and The Big Ball of String
A few weeks ago I decide to occasionally take a break from the heavy issues and tell the summer story of an important summer of my childhood. Chapter 1 was posted about 10 days ago and is available in the archives. This is Summer Story Chapter 2- Harold and the Big Ball of String.
The summer routine was established quickly around activity on the bay and the beach. On the weekends sailing was the primary bay side activity. During the week the town dock had a crowd of kids swimming and diving from the pilings when there was a high tide. The beach was typically the 
destination when the tide was heading down.
We played in the dunes and body surfed for hours. Having the freedom to cross streets was like a magic wand of freedom. Parents were no longer determining when I could swim in either the bay or at the beach. Without parents around, exploration could take place in wetlands that involved mud and wading in shallow water. Conversations with older kids about tides, the birds, fish and how to sail faster, was the summer school that I entered that first year of street crossing freedom.
One day a mystery entered the routine. I found a length of discarded fishing line on the dock one day. I was wrapping it around my hand for no particular reason when Bobby McNulty said to me, “Mr. Steinberg would love to have that string”, I asked, why? Bobby was several years older and with a knowing grin said, ”he collects string all summer long “ Harold Steinberg was the father of one of the older kids. He was a lawyer with a big company in Philadelphia but more importantly was a friendly man who always had something nice to say to the kids on the dock when he came down on the weekends. When he was at the beach he would often do a hand stand and walk across the hard sand on his hands with his feet up in the air to the delight of the little kids at the waters edge .
I saved the string and gave it to Mr. Steinberg when I saw him on the next weekend at the dock. He examined the string carefully with exclamations as to its’ quality and thanking me for my generous and important contribution to his summer string collection.
Nowhere in the meeting was any explanation why a Philadelphia lawyer who could walk on his hands on the hard sand was collecting string at the shore. He was so grateful for my contribution that collecting string for Mr. Steinberg became part of my seashore routine. He was always thankful and made my contribution seem to be of great importance. He never volunteered why he was collecting string.
I asked Bobby McNulty and some of the older kids why Mr. Steinberg collected string. The older kids all smiled in a knowing manner and answered “ You’ll see someday, you’ll see”!
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