Unlike most people, I prefer the beach in winter, spring, and fall when there are few visitors and often the only sounds I hear are the waves, wind, and seabirds. But the 25th annual sand-sculpting contest was too enticing to pass up.

The sun was blazing, music blared, people were dancing, men carried boas seeking tips for photos, there was an endless parade of beachgoers. Coolers, umbrellas, towels, beach chairs, an array of bodies young, old, and in between, sitting, lying, walking, eating, and sculpting, left little empty space to roam.  This was Coney Island on a Saturday afternoon in August.

It has been decades since I’ve been immersed in such a scene. It was initially overwhelming. But it quickly brought back treasured memories of the hours I spent here as a child: learning to swim, tumbling in the waves, eating knishes and hot dogs, drinking fresh juices, playing in the sand.

When did I lose my taste for the summer crowds?  As I listened to the laughter, waded in the  cool flow of gentle waves, and watched people having a ball, I realized I could not recall.