Another week has gone by since last week's flashback and still the weather is frigid, only now instead of being sunny and cold (tolerable), it's dreary and cold (insufferable). What is going on already? I will not listen to cop-outs like "it's February"--that is a lame excuse in my opinion. Christmas is over, it's time for spring. Period.
And so we're back to dreaming of warm days...really warm days back when life was all innocence. Well, almost all innocence, save for the itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny green piece of spandex that's stretched over my tush. Geez, I'm showing more skin here than a Vegas showgirl! Well, if you've got it, flaunt it--and I had it! SNAP!
This is David and me, spending one of our long three-month summer vacations at the Connecticut shore. Those were the days. See the jetty going out into the water behind us? When the tide went out, that thing would be a good four or five feet above the water and we would run out and jump into the ocean with wild abandon. We didn't care about what was lurking below and our parents didn't worry about us either...the world was a safe place then, even the sharks were friendly! We would swim out to the sandbar, which was quite a distance from the shore, and play quite happily, never worrying what was going to come along a take a nibble. That beach was covered up with jellyfish, but who cared? We swam with them anyway. And when we were done swimming with them, we'd catch them in buckets and hack them to pieces with our shovels. If there are significantly less jellyfish in the world today, it's because of the vigilant efforts of me, David and our group of beach buddies. You're welcome.
Yes, things were different back then...or at least I remember them differently. The memories that I have of playing on the beach will NOT become a reality for my kids. There will be no swimming out to the sandbar or jumping off ledges into the depths unknown. Not that my mom made bad choices, but as I said, things were different then. For pete's sake, Patrick has yet to spend a summer at the beach where a shark has not come mere inches from his body!!! But there's always the possibility that I'm remembering this wrong, that the sandbar was actually 10 feet from the shore and that I was only allowed to jump into my mother's waiting arms--in which case I'm sure she'll set the story straight. But don't set me too straight...I like the memories.
And so we're back to dreaming of warm days...really warm days back when life was all innocence. Well, almost all innocence, save for the itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny green piece of spandex that's stretched over my tush. Geez, I'm showing more skin here than a Vegas showgirl! Well, if you've got it, flaunt it--and I had it! SNAP!
This is David and me, spending one of our long three-month summer vacations at the Connecticut shore. Those were the days. See the jetty going out into the water behind us? When the tide went out, that thing would be a good four or five feet above the water and we would run out and jump into the ocean with wild abandon. We didn't care about what was lurking below and our parents didn't worry about us either...the world was a safe place then, even the sharks were friendly! We would swim out to the sandbar, which was quite a distance from the shore, and play quite happily, never worrying what was going to come along a take a nibble. That beach was covered up with jellyfish, but who cared? We swam with them anyway. And when we were done swimming with them, we'd catch them in buckets and hack them to pieces with our shovels. If there are significantly less jellyfish in the world today, it's because of the vigilant efforts of me, David and our group of beach buddies. You're welcome.Yes, things were different back then...or at least I remember them differently. The memories that I have of playing on the beach will NOT become a reality for my kids. There will be no swimming out to the sandbar or jumping off ledges into the depths unknown. Not that my mom made bad choices, but as I said, things were different then. For pete's sake, Patrick has yet to spend a summer at the beach where a shark has not come mere inches from his body!!! But there's always the possibility that I'm remembering this wrong, that the sandbar was actually 10 feet from the shore and that I was only allowed to jump into my mother's waiting arms--in which case I'm sure she'll set the story straight. But don't set me too straight...I like the memories.
