Well, Labor Day has snuck back into town—a little prematurely,
this year, if you ask me—so before it’s too late, I thought I’d sneak one more beach story in while you can still smell the Coppertone.
Z and I were down on the Jersey Shore a few weeks ago for
our annual pilgrimage to renew our…tans.
What? You thought I
was going to say something profound like: renew our spirits or our souls.
Well, yeah…that too. But any dyed in the sand beach person
knows that comes standard, along with the shells and the dolphins, and
everything else shore related.
And if you’re not a beach person, or have an aversion to
rolling waves, sun, sand and a general sense of well-being…then please, just
stay where you are and read no further. I wouldn’t want to sway your digitized
soul with idyllic sunset allusions and mystical references to whales and
pelicans, or take your nose out of your smart phone.
Besides, the line at the pancake house is already way
too long, even on weekdays….
too long, even on weekdays….
The thing about a beach vacation, aside from the 3 pounds of
sand you discover in the lining of your bathing suit when you get home, is that
you discover a new revelation every year.
Perhaps a unique, personal insight about love and life,
borne from the flotsam washed up and over your beach blanket as you sit way to
close to the ocean’s edge, even after your spouse warns you, the tide is still
coming in.
Or the correlation between clear morning sunrises and the
line to buy cold cuts at the Acme.
Nah…I’m just kidding. There’s no correlation there…there’s always a line
to buy cold cuts at the Acme.
No, the real revelation comes when you finally get to place
your order at your favorite ice cream joint of choice, only to find they’ve
discontinued that Bubble Gum Pineapple Pistachio nut flavor soft serve that you
couldn’t get enough of the last three summers.
But hey, that all part of the beach experience; the shore
line is constantly evolving, so why not the flavor of the week?
This year, the thing that resonated most with me, was the
idea that spending a week at the shore…any shore…is like spending a week lost
in time.
Really, except for the ice cream, not much changes from
decade to decade.
Oh sure, store fronts come and go, and super storms wash
away iconic beach shacks from time to
time, but the spirit of the place, the faces and the smiles are constant
from year to year…even after nature takes its best shot.
Drive anywhere on the main drag and you’ll find pairs of young
boys, towels in tow, standing on the corner, laughing and shoving, just feet
from the beach; wet, sun whipped, garbed in droopy bathing suits that could
have been bought any time, from the 40’s to today.
Little girls in ageless sunhats and colorful cover-ups,
riding on dad’s shoulders; turned out himself like his dad, granddad and great
granddad before him. All of them there, together…in spirit if not form.
Mom’s sporting large, round sunglasses, flopping in
universal flips, dragging beach wagons behind, filled with tubes and
balls…shovels and buckets soon to be packed with castle making, dragon dreams.
Eyes sparkling, anticipation building…onward and over the
dunes, to the beach, dotted with
unchanged, unending umbrellas, spreading to the sea.
Simple, timeless, free and freeing.
Another week at the beach…revealing the past, the present
and future in a single glance, on a single street corner…just feet from a
timeless shore.
Can’t wait to find what next year brings….
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