The Beach

Here I am on Okaloosa Island in Fort Walton Beach, Florida. I am lucky to be here thanks to Marilyn. She and her family have made Island Surf a staple in their summers for quite some time, and there have been a few years that she has asked me to join her. My first time here, I was stunned at how gorgeous the water was. I was accustomed to Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, Alabama, and though their beaches are nice, I had never seen the beautiful greens and blues of this Emerald Coast. I don't remember the first year I joined her, but when I told my dad where I was going, he said it was nice and he told me the water was really pretty. I asked him how he knew, and he reminded me he was stationed here at Eglin Air Force Base back in the 60s. I had no idea what he meant about the water until I saw it for myself. But every time I come to a beach for any length of time, I can't help but think back to other beach moments; specifically teenage summers when we vacationed at the Phoenix condominiums run by Brett Robinson Properties in Gulf Shores.

Dad was the planner. He loved emailing and making phone calls to set up reservations. He enjoyed contacting family to give them the "itinerary" of an upcoming trip. He would send information regarding check-in times and vehicle allowances per condo, and once he got the commitment from whoever would attend, he started gathering all kinds of information. I know I get that from him. I watched him do all this when I was a kid, and I think I saw it all as how anyone would plan a vacation. You do all the planning on the front end, make sure everyone is aware of the plan and then you watch it fall into place while you enjoy your vacation.  Ok, so I have since learned that you can plan all you want, but the plan may need some readjusting.  But I will admit, I do love a good planning session for vacation. For me, it builds the excitement of the trip. I think maybe the same was true for Dad.

I think most of our family vacations occurred in June. When we first began vacationing with my cousins, Dad would plan the rendezvous point to meet up with Tammy and Serena coming from Newellton, and we would caravan down highway 49 and then over to highway 98 and on through the magical Mobile tunnel. Tammy drove one van with her mom and dad (and sometimes Aunt Shirley) as passengers while Serena wrangled the kids in the other van. (Rumor has it Serena was skilled enough to keep her hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, but still reach the back row of the van with the help of a wooden spoon to keep everyone in line.) These were the old school days of travel before cell phones, so when someone needed a restroom stop, the lights would flash and we'd all pull over together, take care of business, and hit the road again one vehicle in line after the other. Mom and Dad and I were in a one bedroom condo. Aunt June, Uncle Marvin, Tammy, Serena, and all the "kids" were in the three-bedroom condo that served as our primary gathering place. Though the summers shifted as I grew older, I seem to remember the initial planning of the first trip or two that we all took together. There were times when were merely met up at the condo, and times when our stays weren't equivocal, but it's the first few trips that stay with the me the most, so what follows is more a representation of those early trips.

Once we parked and checked in, the madness of the unloading began. Matt and Jared got whatever luggage carts they could find, surfed on them while bringing them to the cars, and off we went... up and down the glass-walled elevators to the long-awaited floor that we'd call home for the next week. Once the bags and beach supplies were unloaded, Tammy would take Aunt June to the grocery store, Serena would corral the children, and Mom and Dad and I would settle into our condo. I am fairly certain there were immediate requests for pool or beach time... I can't say I remember the details of that. I just remember the build-up of the arrival!  

Mornings in our one-bedroom condo began with Mom and Dad making coffee and going to the beach for their early morning beach walk. It's funny, but I rarely opted to go. I would choose sleep over the morning beach walk.  Sometimes I regret that, but maybe that was a time for Mom and Dad to just be together out there on the sand. Dad was always an observer and even though I didn't see these walks, I suspect he took in the surroundings and admired the sunrise and the calm crash of the waves and watched Mom gather what shells and sand dollars she could before the tide pulled everything back out to the sea. Once they made it back from the morning stroll, Dad would go over and have some coffee with Aunt June. Their sibling connection was a special one, and I know even some moments as they sat in silence next to each other, it was a conversation of their hearts. Admittedly, though, I don't know there was much silence in the three-bedroom condo. By 9am, mornings there began with Aunt June and Dad making a full southern breakfast of bacon, eggs, and biscuits with gravy. Once we had full bellies, there was nothing like putting on a swimsuit to head off to the beach and pool.

Mom loved nothing more than feeling the sun on her skin, so as soon as the pool area was open, Dad would venture down and claim poolside chairs for us by draping our beach towels over them. Mom was ready to sit on the beach or by the pool all day soaking in the rays. As a young teenager, I preferred swimming and keeping cool as opposed to sweating in the sun. We rarely posted up on the beach. If we were on the beach, we were walking up and down the water's edge or we were taking a brief dip in the water. Our home base was the pool deck. Dad played bartender/cabana boy. Late mornings were for Bloody Marys and early afternoons were for margaritas. Dad would proudly make those drinks for the adults and cart them down to the pool. He would sip his own beverage poolside with Mom, and often Tammy, and Serena, and then head back up to the condo to be with Aunt June and Uncle Marvin. Late afternoon and early evening, Tammy and Serena would go to work with making sure Aunt June and Uncle Marvin made it down to the beach. Serena would place a lawn chair in the surf, and Uncle Marvin would sit down and feel the water inching up around his toes as he looked out over the horizon. Aunt June would wring her hands, searching for the kids to make sure none of them were out in the water.

It's strange how age differences mean one thing in one spectrum of time and quite another as you age. During my early high school years when we took these trips, I felt awkwardly caught between the two worlds of first cousins and second cousins. (I think perhaps the proper terms are "cousin once removed" or "twice removed," but surely, it's clear what I mean regardless.) In any case, at the time, it seemed that I was too old for one group (Julie, Jared, Matt, Amanda, and Jeannie), but too young for another (Tammy and Serena). Don't misunderstand... I still love the memories, but I remember those vacations quite differently than Jared, Julie, Matt, Amanda, and Jeannie. Matt was always up to something just mischievous enough to exasperate Serena, but not so malicious that it didn't make us all laugh hysterically... I seem to recall one such time when he put the trash bag onto the elevator and watched it go up and down sharing the ride with other guests of the condo looking around at why there was a trash bag on the elevator. Eventually he would retrieve it, but only after the entertainment of it died down.

They are fond memories. They seem so distant as many years have passed, but they resurface in my mind as they are not that far from my heart. Dad and Aunt June usually worked on dinner together. If it was shrimp night, Dad would make his morning trip to get fresh shrimp from the docks and he would plan a shrimp pasta for most of us, but a small portion of fried shrimp for Aunt June and Jared. The evening would begin its descent with a sunset beach walk for nearly all of us, but then once darkness fell it was the magic hour for crabbing. I was never one to participate, but I'd sit on the beach and watch and laugh and cringe and squeal if any of the little white sand crabs ran over my feet.

Those trips were fun.  And even though we have all grown up, I still see images of who were all were when we were young. And that in some cases we aren't so different now. I am grateful that time has made those awkward age gaps close. All generations of my family have become friends to me, and I consider that a gift. I will never feel alone because of that.

One of my earliest beach trips with mom and dad contains a memory so vivid, and it makes me laugh. I believe we were on vacation with the Wacaster family. Jimmy and Dad were high school friends, and mom and Renetta became close friends when we lived in Ridgedale. Jimmy and Renetta's kids, Todd and Amy were nearly identical in age as Shellie and me. I think we were all a part of this trip, the 8 of us, but I admit that I don't have strong memories of the 8 of us together. My vivid memory captures Mom, Dad, and I walking on the beach together one afternoon. Mom went out into the ocean, but I was hesitant. She kept encouraging me by calling out to me to join her.  She was about chest-deep in the water with her giant sunglasses on, hair perfectly curled, styled, and sprayed for the day, hollering, "Come on, Stella! It's fun! There's nothing to worry about." Her smile was beaming as she splashed around a bit and swayed back and forth thanks to the subtle waves rolling in. I was debating. It did look tempting, and she was having fun. Just as I was about to step further in the water to join her, a wave came crashing over her from behind, she staggered a bit, definitely went out of sight behind a wall of water, and emerged from the wave... her head soaking wet, her sunglasses gone, her mouth sputtering salt water out, and her feet on the move to get a little closer to the shore. Dad's laughter rang out over the crashing waves as he slightly hunched his shoulders from laughing at her appearance. She began smiling as she walked closer to the beach, tilting her head to one side to get water out of her ear, and I am fairly certain there was a "Dang!" that emphatically resounded. Once she was within his reach, he helped smooth the hair out of her face, and as his laughter died down to a chuckle, he put his arm around her as we all rejoined the walk down the beach. Mom's ability to laugh at herself in times like that is a strength in personality - it's a resilience she possesses because she never lets the crashing wave (metaphorically as well as literally) deter her from having a good time. She loved the beach and sun then, and she loves it still. As for Dad, his watchful presence is always there - on the sand while she is in the water and I know that even now, there are times she may feel like she is drowning, but he's there... watching. And I know he's smoothing the hair out of her face, and he's got his arm around her even if it's nothing the living can see or feel directly.  He's there.