It was here that some of my fondest memories reside, sitting upon dad's shoulders as he carried me through the 'deep' water {the water was probably only 4-feet-deep, and dad was but 5'7" tall, but I was just a toddler at the time} to the island raft in Sunlight "The World's Largest Recirculating" Pool. Or, when I rode upon dad's shoulders on the park's midway so that I may see over the heads of the crowd of spectators to watch live entertainment being presented, or fireworks.
At the other extreme, my favorite ride was the carousel; spinning to the sounds of a Marine bandbox.
But my fondest memory is of grabbing dad's hand and leading him to the thrill rides that he and I most enjoyed. Once the rest of the family was settled and prepared to take off to enjoy their interests, I grabbed dad by the hand and we headed off to ride the Wildcat rollercoaster. You see, dad especially enjoyed roller coasters, as I learned to as well with his introduction. And the rougher the better. I was so small that dad had to place his arm around me and hold me into the seat for the wildest and best ride in the world.
The other family members had less of this interest, with one exception. At the end of each visit to Coney Island mom and dad would gather us together at the entrance of The Shooting Star roller coaster, a long rising and falling wooden thrill ride that paralleled the midway and river, that ended in a dark curving tunnel. There we four kids would wait while mom and dad took their one ride together for the evening. What seemed to become a romantic tradition, we children would watch as mom and dad rode up to the summit of the chain-driven first hill, dad's arm around mom; culminating in their later exit with a vision of their own childhood.
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