Expressway: Our daughter, the chatterbox
Joy Cooper, daughter of Mal and Neome Cooper of Lido Beach, when she was 3 years old in 1959. Credit: Cooper family photo
As a young teacher in 1959, I did not have to report for work until a full week after Labor Day. My summer work as a supervisor at a summer day camp ended in late August, so I had two weeks to relax with my wife, Neome, and 3-year-old daughter, Joy. We took a trip that summer to Provincetown, the popular art resort on Cape Cod.
Our gorgeous little girl was very inquisitive, commenting on and asking questions about everything. She was petite, with dark hair and large, expressive eyes. On Cape Cod, I knew Joy would enjoy the beach and learning about the Pilgrims and the Mayflower. A teacher is always teaching, I suppose.
Provincetown was mostly clear of vacationers. We kept close as questions bubbled out of Joy and she hopped and skipped along the Commercial Street business district.
"Why is that man carrying a briefcase?" she asked. "Why did that car stop? ... What is in the store window? ... When are we eating? ... How come the street is so wide? ... What are we doing tomorrow?"
That evening at a fish restaurant, a couple smiled and nodded as they passed by on Commercial Street. I couldn't help overhearing the woman's comment.
"That's the cute little girl we saw this morning and she is still chattering away," she said. "Those poor parents."
Joy promptly made friends with some couples at an adjacent table. She began conversations, particularly with the men.
"What are you eating?" she asked. "Why do your shoes have buckles? ... Who is your wife? ... Why is your stomach so big?"
The next morning, we climbed to the top of the Pilgrim Monument, the tall granite structure that commemorates the history of the Mayflower Pilgrims. We looked out over Provincetown and its harbor. Then we explored the museum below. Our little one had a wonderful time making eye contact with other tourists and chatting with one and all.
The highlight was a dune buggy ride on the endless beach. It was Joy's idea. She had spotted the jeeps speeding along the beach from the top of the Pilgrim Monument.
My wife and I were young, so no indulgence was too much. We approached a jeep driver for a ride. He looked at us and our young daughter a little skeptically. But Joy ran ahead and climbed into his orange sand buggy with the open top and large, four-wheel-drive tires.
The vehicle bounced, leaped over sand dunes, sprayed saltwater as it skimmed through the incoming tide. We held tight, clenching hands as we realized we were on a real adventure. A worried Neome whispered, "We should have told the driver that I'm pregnant."
Thankfully, our chatterbox took care of that. Joy announced to the driver that she was going to have a baby sister or brother around Christmastime. Our shaken guide slowed to a crawl and quickly deposited us back at the dune buggy station.
Reader Mal Cooper lives in Lido Beach.
