It was refreshing always to embrace the last day of school in June. However, we college students hurried home to apply for summer waitress jobs freely available at the seashore.
We were carefully coached by a head waitress not to complain as we supported loaded trays on one arm before reaching our stands.
After exhausting work on one July evening, I trudged home planning to take my clean uniform off of the clothesline and iron it for the next day.
The house was dark as I unlocked the door but the sound of loud, screaming voices saying “Happy Birthday, Hazel!” traumatized me. The tears flew as I shook uncontrollably in happiness.