Life's a Beach
You won't find me at a sunny beach, surrounded by people, wearing a bathing suit, building sand castles, with someone else's music invading my space. Not my scene.
I stumbled on some old pictures, taken by my first wife Susie, probably around 1983. It's heavily overcast, at a random Half Moon Bay beach. I am walking along the shore, the foam lapping at my ankles up to my rolled up jeans, my shepherd hound running into and out of the photos Susie continued to take.
There was not another person in sight.
I was looking out at the ocean, unaware she was snapping photos. I had with me the three things which mattered most to me at that point in my life; my wife, my dog, and my undistracted thoughts and reflections that only a grey ocean could draw out of me.
I was in my glory. And Susie intrinsically knew it. She had a photographer's, and a wife's, unerring instinct.
It remains to this day the only time I have ever made love on a beach.
I have, of course, returned to that and many other beaches often throughout my life. I've lived on both coasts, and have enjoyed the differences in the two oceans. I have frolicked on the beaches of Puerto Vallarta and Mazatlan, Mexico. Even playing beach volleyball shore side on the strip of sand owned by the four star hotel where I was staying. All the while comforted by the thought that only 50 feet away was a hat trick of life's goodies, waiting for me: Ice cold Dos Equis, a bubbling Jacuzzi to ease the impending aches and pains that only beach volleyball can give you, and a swim up bar in the center of the pool that may as well have had Saint Peter as its bartender, so close to heaven was it.
Beaches on Paradise Island in the Bahamas proved equally as intoxicating. But again, too many people.
Nothing compares to a fog shrouded, misty mid-week afternoon out at Half Moon Bay, strolling along a deserted beach, trusted hound darting to and fro, always returning to my side, to her base camp.
And all the reflecting, the musing over the big issues of life, and the small issues as well, are punctuated by the comforting knowledge that in an hour or two, on the outside promenade overlooking the Pacific at the Moss Beach Distillery, life would provide, for dog and man alike, a cold martini as an exclamation point to a perfect day.