Chicken Soup for the Beach Lover's Soul (7 page)

But riding the waves was my favorite fun thing to do. Today boards are used, but when I was a youngster you used your body as the board. We perfected the art of selecting the “perfect wave” and riding it for several hundred feet, right up onto the dry beach. We mastered the ability to change directions at the last split second. To this day I can still remember the panicked look on the bathers' faces as we just skimmed by them, much to our enjoyment and much to their fright. It was the high of the day to end up on the dry beach. I would lay there savoring my victory for a few moments before getting up and charging into the water again to conquer another wave. It was always just “one more wave” that got me in trouble as I rushed home—wet, barefooted, and full of sand—trying to beat Mom's five o'clock deadline for supper.

As with everything in life, there was a downside to living on the summer beach. Sunburns, blowing sand, other bratty kids kicking sand on you, and the dangers of rip tides carrying you out to sea or waves slamming you into the ocean bottom were a few. But the worst intrusion was people invading the serenity of my existence as I dozed off while lying on the beach with the warm sand contoured around my body and my mind full of the fantasies of my own summer beach.

To me, the beach is everything good, whether you are seventeen or in your seventies, as I am now. In my later years I find that it still draws me into its world of escapism. I no longer spend time on the beach in the summer because of the strong sun and the crowds, but I do visit my old hideaway in the other seasons.

Now it is fall and the transition begins. The summer bennies have returned to their winter homes away from the shore while the parking meters and the lifeguard benches have retreated to their winter storage locations. The boardwalk concessions are still holding their ground, but they are boarded up for the long winter hiatus. Nature is taking control again.

My solitary, quiet, and uneventful walks along the edge of the water, protected with warm clothing to buffer me from the cold winds and the distant sun, still stimulate my body and my mind. They are a respite from the busy world of details and demands. When I walk on my beach now, I am enveloped in an aura of peace and serenity. My spirit, my soul, is strangely warmed in spite of nature's cold temperatures. I know life is still worth living. The simple things of life always bring me back to this realization: Life is good. My beach of decades ago, with all its activities of youth and excitement, beautifully meshes with my beach of today, with my deeper appreciation of its quietness and reassurance. As I walk along examining and picking up the fascinating shells by the water line, I am reminded that now is all I have. Now is all I need.

George H. Moffett

A Wave of Joy

“This is the best day of my life,” Joy said as we hauled our surfboards up the beach. I knew exactly what she meant because surfing changed my life, too. It's hard to put into words what the simple act of riding a wave can mean to a person, but I'll try.

Surfing is a metaphor for life. Many people say, “I'll be happy as soon as . . . ,” and they finish the sentence with “I get a raise, buy a house, lose some weight” and so on. The truth is, the pursuit of those goals is the reward. Surfers always talk about the perfect wave, but some of the most enjoyable rides come in less-than-perfect conditions. Besides, a good ride lasts less than a minute, but the pursuit of a wave can take all day—and what a great day it is because you are at the beach.

I could tell that Joy “got it” when it came to surfing, even though she was only ten years old. When she first stepped into my surf shop you could see it in her eyes. She was stoked.

Her mom came up to the counter and said rather dejectedly, “My daughter says she wants to learn how to surf. I'm not happy about it, but I'm going along with it because I know it's just a phase.”

They say the customer is always right, so I didn't dare correct her and tell her the truth. Surfing is not a phase; it's a lifestyle. I should know; I own a surf shop.

I took the time to show Joy all the surfboards that would be a good fit for her, as well as some of the accessories that went with them. As I did this, something occurred to me. Here I was cooped up in my shop and this girl was going surfing. That's when I blurted out, “How would you like a free surfing lesson?”

“Really!” Joy replied.

“For free?” her mom asked.

“Yes,” I said. “With each board you buy you get a free surfing lesson.” I was making this up on the fly because I wanted to get out in the water.

“We'll take it,” the mom said.

“Can we go now?” Joy asked.

I looked at the mom and said, “Absolutely.”

In my mind, there is nothing better than spending the day surfing—except teaching someone else how to surf. I was a little nervous conducting my first impromptu surf lesson, but once I realized I had been surfing since
I
was ten, it seemed like this was meant to happen. The first thing I did when we got to the beach was point out the different colors in the water and what that meant—a sandy bottom creates a lighter coloring while a reef leaves the ocean looking darker and so on. We talked about what makes a wave break and where to be in order to catch it. We spent an hour in the sand (the classroom) before we even got in the water. Joy loved every minute of it.

We waded into the shallow water and spotted a stingray and leopard shark nearby. “Shuffle your feet,” I said.

“That was so cool. I saw a shark,” Joy gushed.

I wondered how she would react to the dolphins that ride the waves at this particular spot.

It didn't take long. “Did you see that?” she said as two dolphins darted in and out of a wave not more than a few yards from us.

“Those dolphins have it made. They get to surf all day,” I said.

“They are so lucky,” Joy replied.

So far my first surf lesson was going great. All the time I took explaining how waves broke and how to paddle over, around, and under them had paid off—Joy had made it out past the surf with ease. Once we were beyond where the waves were breaking we were able to sit on our boards and talk. “Are you ready to ride your first wave?” I asked Joy.

“Oh yeah, but I kinda like just sitting here, too,” she said.

“I know. It's peaceful,” I pointed out.

Joy then began telling me about everything going on in her life.

As luck would have it, a great wave was approaching us. “Joy, are you ready?” I asked. She nodded. “Okay, start paddling for this wave and stand up once you've got it.”

Joy not only caught the wave perfectly, but she rode it all the way to shore. I caught the next one and rode it in. Joy was jumping up and down on the sand, screaming with excitement.

“That was so gnarly!” she said.

“Great wave,” I replied. “You can now surf.”

We spent the rest of the day surfing together, and when we were done I knew Joy was hooked. I also knew I was hooked on teaching people how to surf.

So when Joy said, “This is the best day of my life,” I answered back with, “Me, too.”

Lee Silber

The Treasure

N
ight's darkness is the bag that bursts with the
gold of the dawn.

Rabindranath Tagore

“Eric, do you want to go look for shells?”

My youngest popped his head up from under the sheet and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?”

“About 6:30,” I whispered.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Is anyone else going?”

“No. They're all still asleep.”

It was the last day of our annual family beach vacation. My husband and other two children preferred to sleep in after staying up late each night, unlike my fellow morning buddy, Eric.

“Okay. I'll go. Don't leave yet.”

“I won't,” I assured him. “I'll wait on you.”

My eight-year-old threw on shorts and a T-shirt faster than ever. We headed out the beach house door, down the back stairs, past the pool, and onto the beach. I kicked off my flip-flops and waited while he removed his sandals. Other early-morning risers dotted the shoreline. With shoes in hand, we squished our toes through the soft sand and walked toward the water's edge to begin our hunt.

“Maybe we'll find a sand dollar, Mommy.”

“Maybe. I've wanted to find a whole one for a long time. I've looked, but only found lots of pieces.”

He looked up at me. “If I find one, I'll give it to you.”

I smiled while the hint of tears began to form in my eyes. His tender heart brought him out this early in search of something for me. Now my quest had become his.

While we walked and searched, we talked about his friends, his brother and sister, school, and dreams he'd kept. The conversation stopped whenever he found a piece of a sand dollar.

“Is this one?”

“Yup, sure is.” I added it to the growing collection of pieces he already found. With my other hand, I tousled his hair and rubbed his back, trying to avoid getting sand from my flip-flops all over him. “It's amazing that you just learned what a sand dollar looked like a few days ago, and now you can spot pieces of them better and faster than anyone.”

He beamed. “Maybe we'll find a whole one since we got up early.”

“Maybe, honey.” I was hopeful, but the longer we looked, the more I doubted.

An older lady walked up to us. “Here,” she said, handing us a beautiful round shell with spirals on it. “I collect these. They're called shark's eyes. I just love them.”

Eric and I examined the shell. The spirals spun inward to form an eye in the colorful center.

“That's cool,” Eric whispered in my ear.

“Yes, it is cool,” I repeated loudly for the lady. “Thank you.”

Soon he and I were back on our quest with the new discovery, chatting happily. I picked up a few tiny shells because they were cute, flawless, and easy to carry.

FLORIDA

Sanibel and Captiva Islands

FLORIDA

Sanibel and Captiva Islands