Today I put my beach clothes on. Not that I’m going to the beach or anything, it’s just that I need a little beach attitude. This sheltered in place is a bitch, but I don’t think I need to tell any of you that. But at least I live somewhere where social distancing is the norm. My wife was complaining this morning about it being too quiet. The EMC next door is closed for the weekend and our Governor put in a stay in place order yesterday. So other the birds and the occasional passing car, not much else is going on.
Anyway, back to the beachwear. I got on my faded old beach bum t-shirt, a sting-tied pair of shorts, a bleached-out hoodie, slippers, and a ratty old ball cap. I look like I belong at a Jimmy Buffet concert. When me and Lisa go down to Jekyll Island, we sorta stand out. Mostly because we don’t look like your average tourist. Most are richer, paler, and Canadian. But we all get along because we are all there for one thing, the smells, the sounds, and the feel of the ocean. Jekyll's special for its narrow undeveloped beaches, its wind-swept trees, and overall obscurity.
We hardly ever go there in the summer, because me and Lisa prefer the winter months. That way we and the Canadians pretty much have the place to ourselves. That way Lisa can go seashelling and I can take pics without interruption. Anyway, sitting here in the backyard, feeling the cool morning breeze; I’m reminded there will be better days coming. But at the moment I can at least be grateful for the memories, and for the moments I have to share with you.
Anyway, back to the beachwear. I got on my faded old beach bum t-shirt, a sting-tied pair of shorts, a bleached-out hoodie, slippers, and a ratty old ball cap. I look like I belong at a Jimmy Buffet concert. When me and Lisa go down to Jekyll Island, we sorta stand out. Mostly because we don’t look like your average tourist. Most are richer, paler, and Canadian. But we all get along because we are all there for one thing, the smells, the sounds, and the feel of the ocean. Jekyll's special for its narrow undeveloped beaches, its wind-swept trees, and overall obscurity.
We hardly ever go there in the summer, because me and Lisa prefer the winter months. That way we and the Canadians pretty much have the place to ourselves. That way Lisa can go seashelling and I can take pics without interruption. Anyway, sitting here in the backyard, feeling the cool morning breeze; I’m reminded there will be better days coming. But at the moment I can at least be grateful for the memories, and for the moments I have to share with you.
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