Ocean, sun, sand and gentle breezes

I might have mentioned somewhere in my writing that I am a beach person.  I enjoy going to the mountains, but I much prefer the beach.  As a matter of fact, we are going to the mountains for New Year's this year.  It should be interesting to discover what effect, if any, the increased altitude has on my whirling dervish brain.  I hope I don't get headaches, but we'll just have to see what happens.  One of the really fantastic things about living in North Carolina is you can have both mountains and beaches without ever leaving the state.  If you drive east you run into the Atlantic Ocean and if you drive west you run into the Appalachian mountains consisting of the Smokies and the Blue Ridge mountains.


When I was a child and we lived in Miami, we often spent days at the beach.  Most of the beaches were public back in the 1950's, so it didn't matter how poor you were.  If you could get there, you could have a day at the beach.  Of course, we didn't live in Miami Beach, but we almost always had an old clunker of a car that would get us there and back.  My mother told me "once you get the sand in your shoes, you'll always come back."  I had no idea then what she was talking about, but it turned out to be true.  My mother's sister, my Aunt Iris, had a small apartment building a block off the beach in Daytona.  We would visit there once in awhile, and we lived there for a few months when we were moving from Miami to New Jersey.  Daytona Beach is a really sensational place.  It was very odd to have to look both ways for oncoming traffic before crossing the sand to get to the ocean though.  We didn't go to the beach as a family in New Jersey (where it isn't the beach, it's the shore).  I went to the "shore" with friends a few times when we lived there --  Atlantic City (long before there were any casinos), Point Pleasant, Wildwood and Ocean City.  When I lived in Brooklyn with my brother Harry and his family, we lived in Brighton Beach a block off the water and I spent as much time as I could at nearby Coney Island.  Of course, Norfolk and Virginia Beach are pretty much all the same city, except there's no beach in Norfolk.  Still, I managed to get to Virginia Beach enough that living in Norfolk wasn't too hard.


While I was in the Navy and stationed in Norfolk, I got to go to Hawaii.  Now, that, my friends, is a beach!!!  My ex, Steve, was in Viet Nam and he was taking a week's R&R in Honolulu.  I flew commercial airline, nonstop from Baltimore to Honolulu, but I went military standby.  Back in the early 1970's, military standby meant you paid half price for the airfare, but, of course, you only got on the plane if there were any empty seats after the full fare passengers had boarded.  However, military were given priority over any other type of standby passenger, so if there was only one seat available, the military person got it.  I could have taken a military transport for free, but you have to go where the transport is going and that isn't always where you want to be.  Sometimes you have to hop several different transports to get to your final destination.  They also fly at odd hours, and are not noted for their comfort.  Sure it's free, but most of the time you get what you pay for.  I didn't have any trouble getting to Hawaii.  We had a fantabulous week there.  However, on the standby flight home, I ran into a little bit of a difficulty.  There was supposed to be a Boeing 747 out of Los Angeles that we would take back to the continental U.S.  I was pretty excited as I'd never been onboard a 747.   Something happened to the plane in L.A., and they sent a 727 instead; a difference of several hundred seats.  It appeared I was going to have to call my duty station in Norfolk and explain to them that I had been bumped in Honolulu and couldn't get back from leave on time.  OH WHAT A SHAME!  But, luck was either with me or against me depending upon your point of view.  There was one standby seat after all the passengers had boarded for the return flight to the mainland, and since I was the first military person on the standby list, I got the last seat on the plane.  I changed planes in L.A. and took the redeye back to Baltimore, then on to Norfolk, and reported in from leave on time.  To this day, I have still never flown in a Boeing 747.  I would love to go back to Hawaii some day.  I may never get there again, but I am so glad I had the opportunity to go there once.


I didn't go swimming at the beach when I lived in New England, but we did go to the Maine coast often for weekend jaunts.  Every time I see a picture of a lighthouse on a rocky coast it takes me back to Maine in my mind.  The little town of Ogunquit is truly picturesque and was quaint and artsy and fun.  And the roadside lobster stands are one of the best ideas anyone ever had.  Of course, we made trips to Boston and to the Boston Harbor, but still it wasn't like going to the beach.  My most favorite restaurant in the whole world is in Boston -- Anthony's Pier 4.  I went swimming in Lake Richardson in Maine in July and the water was frigid.  I hate to imagine what it is like any other season.  I only went to the coast once when I lived in Atlanta and that was just to get some fresh shrimp off the boats when they came in at St. Simons Island.  When I lived in Maryland, we went to Ocean City once, but it was too touristy for my taste and not "tropical" enough.  Still, living on the Chesapeake Bay is an acceptable alternative.  We didn't live on the bay, but we spent as much time as possible there.


We've been to the Carolina coast numerous times.  We've been on the Outer Banks.  We particularly like the Duck/Corolla area.   We've been to the southern part of the Outer Banks as well; Ocracoke and Hatteras.  But most people in North Carolina go to South Carolina to go to the beach.  We've been to Myrtle Beach a few times, but I find it crowded and tacky most of the time.  We have some very special friends, Dr. Dave and Dr. Terry, who live in Tennessee.  They are both really medical doctors and both have frantic medical practices that keep them hopping all year long.  Each year, for one week at the beginning of July, our friends rent a huge house on Pawley's Island in South Carolina, where they go and get away from it all.  Well not really, because they take their kids with them and as many siblings and nieces and nephews as want to come along.  But still it's a week at the beach without patients to see and deadlines to meet and lectures to give and articles to write.  They also invite Tim and Ann and Bud and me and several of our other friends to come along.  Most years we take them up on their offer and we all have an outstanding time.  Bud and I haven't been able to make it in the past two years, but come Hell or high water, we are going next July.  Christopher (Dave and Terry's son) actually asked Bud when he was coming back because he misses Bud's cooking.  


There are more beach stories to tell -- trips to the Bahamas and Bermuda.  Also, vacations we've shared with Bud's brother Mike and his family in the Dominican Republic and the Mayan Riviera in Mexico.  It's been 15 months since I've had beach sand in my shoes or any body crevices.  I'm actually having withdrawal.