Tuesday, January 1, 2008

The Closing of Summer, September 2006

Memories of people and events from a near perfect weekend.

The phone call had come from Uncle Paul early in the week saying that he had the urge for an end of summer beach party and that he wanted me and the kids to come down. Uncle Paul wanted as many members of the family to be there as circumstances allowed and that he had enough room for everyone at his house for the weekend. Never one to turn down any chance to head for the coast and party I told him to expect me and the kids that Saturday morning. I hung up the phone already feeling good about the coming weekend that just that morning seemed to hold nothing but the usual yard work while being stuck in what I had come to think of as the godforsaken Midlands. I called Dragonwife at work and told her about Uncle Paul's offer and wondered if this time she would come down with us. As expected she looked upon this as a chance for her to get things done around the house with us out of it. Being use to her response I breathed a small sigh of relief since nothing kills a party like my wife. Everything was set and the kids and I only had to wait for the weekend to come.

We pulled out as fast as possible early Saturday morning. But not before having Dragonwife come up with several important chores that she had said nothing about the night before. Maybe this was some sort of subconscious statement about not wanting us to go but once they were completed the kids and I quickly hit the road before she could, and would have, come up with other absolute needs. The bright sunshine of the day was a huge contrast to the dark clouds that a tropical storm had pushed inland a few days before as it rode the coast north then out to sea. The interstate was close to being empty and while the kids settled in with their games and books I tuned in the Saturday morning NPR show and settled in for the drive myself. We made it all the way to the other side of the Isle of Palms on US highway 17 before Miss Wiggles started yelling out about needing a bathroom and chocolate milk before having to stop. With Pepsis and chocolate milk in hand we quickly hit the road again and made it to Uncle Paul's house without any further interruptions. As the kids and I drove onto the island I began wondering who else might have answered Uncle Paul's call to rendezvous at the ocean front haven. The nature of my family makes such sudden party urges common but unfortunately jobs and commitments make answering them hard. I hadn't been able to make contact with my brothers or sister during the run-up to the weekend and I had no idea who we might be enjoying the weekend with.

After parking the starship the kids and I saw two cars we didn't recognize jammed up underneath the raised beach house. We soon found the collection of people that had gathered for the weekend party a real, if not uncomfortable at first, blast from the past. We walked up the back stairwell of the house leading up to a small porch and the kitchen door. Looking through the screened door sitting at the kitchen table was one of my honorary uncles and aunts, Easyrider and Crazylady. My two blood relation uncles Paul and George are just twelve and fourteen years older than me. As they were growing up my arrival during the better part of their girl chasing years opened a convenient avenue to get the attention of the fairer sex. As soon as my mom and dad would allow it I could be found going on beach trips with them and at times they would loan me out to their good, and thankfully trustworthy, friends. Easyrider sitting at the well worn kitchen table had originally started out as best friends with Uncle Paul and George's older and now passed away brother Uncle Bear. Uncle Bear in the late 60's had joined the navy and Easyrider by default fell in with my younger uncles and another honorary uncle Suferdude who is the brother of Uncle Bear's wife. More times than I count during the late 60's and well into the 70's before my mom and dad divorced they would come and snag me to act as chick bait on the beach as they surfed. As the years drove on both Easyrider and Suferdude stayed in my life until events caused us all to lose most contact. Easyrider's wife, Crazylady, rushed up from the table to give me a quick hug. While the years had turned Easyrider's black mane white and left him with a leathery wrinkled face and pudgy body Crazylady looked as if she had skipped the last twenty years. She wore a modest bikini but I'm sure she would still draw the attention of men on a beach. And I thought I saw a very happy look on Spoilboy's face as Crazylady broke off and hugged Wiggles and then him. Our noise brought Uncle George and his wife Lady Maria from the ocean facing porch as well as Easyrider and Crazylady's daughter Bikerbabe and her son who was about the same age as my son. It was then I had a momentary cringe seeing Bikerbabe since she and I had a sort of past. Growing up around these people I had known Bikerbabe since she and I could walk. We had been friends during that time and I admit we may have played "doctor" as young kids. By the high school years our paths had diverged enough that she and I had nothing in common even though we did date for awhile. But that didn't stop Crazylady from trying to match make us several times with disastrous results as late as the 80's one time when I came home on leave from the army. My first thought as I saw Bikerbabe enter the room was concern thinking that while I had not seen Easyrider or his family in years I had heard that she was single again and Crazylady might try to live up to her name by trying to push us together. My marriage to Dragonwife right then was on some very serious rocks and I'm sure whatever information about Easyrider's family that I heard was equal to the information that they got about me. I didn't mind, while years had slipped by without seeing them I still considered them family. My concerns about possible fixups soon slipped my mind as another person entered the door to the ocean side screened-in porch and came into the house.

I did not know her at all but the first thing I noticed about this lady was her dark shoulder length hair and her dark eyes wearing a yellow one piece swimsuit. I was soon introduced to Ravenhair, a friend of Bikerbabe's who had come down to Georgetown to join up with Bikerbabe's folks then over to Pawleys with her to enjoy the weekend on the island. Uncle Paul and Lady Einstein came down from the upstairs getting the spare bedrooms ready not long later and while I was eager to get outside to the beach everyone else, namely the older folks, wanted to finish their coffee and relax. As it would have been expected my son and Bikerbabe's boy being about the same age quickly fell in with each other along with Ravenhair's son and ran out for the beach promising to stay away from the water until we were all outside. Wiggles found Uncle George's lap and began explaining about her small collection of Barbie's that she carried with her in a small case to him and Lady Maria. Both Uncle Paul and George have grown children but neither yet has any grandchildren and of the two Uncle George is the one who is really looking forward to being a grandfather. So Lady Maria and him were in hog heaven being explained the rules of Barbie fashion by Wiggles.

Knowing the nature of young boys and how rules can easily slip their minds the entire tribe went and sat on the screened-in porch to keep some sort of eye on the three as they played close to the shoreline. While it was already hot outside a periodic breeze coming from the ocean along with the two ceiling fans mounted in the rafters made the heat only slightly noticeable. The reported lost art of conversation was quickly rediscovered as everyone relaxed in a comfortable and friendly setting knowing that a near perfect day had just begun. Someone saw fit to bring the CD player online and soon the lyrics of “Under the Boardwalk” were drifting in the air. The general plan for the day was fun on the beach, a quick very light lunch, and as the shadows grew long later in the day the elders would pull out the grill for a huge fish fry. Most everyone was content to sit on the porch and talk except Crazylady who grew tired of what she thought was wasted time. She forced everyone up and out by applying sun block on her body in a way that put a huge grin on the face of Easyrider and sent everyone else running off the porch. Neither of them had ever been shy about expressing their affection for each other in nearly public places and I found myself frankly envious that even now their relationship was such that I heard Crazylady tell her husband to cool his jets until tonight when they were alone as I walked down the steps leading to the beach carrying Wiggles.

Even though the beach began at the bottom steps of Uncle Paul’s house a couple of big umbrellas were used to provide some shelter from the sun for the elders sitting in their lounge chairs. Spoilboy and Bikerbabe’s son, Scamp, being equal in age began leaving Ravenhair’s much younger son, Ash, behind as they prowled the beach with Bikerbabe whom seem to be keeping me at arm’s length. That left Ravenhair and I to entertain her son and my daughter. Both little ones wanted to go deeper into the water and jump the very mild waves that lazily made their way to shore. Between the tame sets when the ocean went flat Ravenhair and I would try and teach the two little ones some basic swimming strokes but ended up just getting splashed as the two broke down into extreme giggles. Being in such close quarters I soon learned she was a teacher at a small town close to Rock Hill, South Carolina. She had divorced Ash’s dad almost the day he was born but I didn’t ask why and she didn’t until much later tell me why. Ravenhair and Bikerbabe had been friends for years from when both had been wilder free spirits. Any question of a possible change in fix up tactics on the part of Crazylady was mostly set aside when she told me she was seeing someone else. I would be lying if I said I was relieved to learn she was seeing someone else, she was attractive and had an easy smile and friendly manner that instantly made it easy to talk with her. Time slipped by as our play with the kids and conversation went on until Easyrider and Crazylady came running into the water acting as teenagers grabbing each other and whispering stuff in each other’s ear. Ravenhair and I watched and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that both Easyrider and Crazylady had found it too hard to cool their jets until nightfall so we decided that the smaller kids needed a short break from the sun and pulled them out. From off in the distance I heard Bikerbabe yell out for her parents to get a room. If her parents, whose only visible parts above water were their heads, heard the disgust in her voice they paid no notice.

My uncles and aunts being far more settled in their lives were happy to stand guard on the coolers in their chairs under the umbrellas keeping the sandwiches and drinks for lunch cold. While Ravenhair and I had been in the water with the smaller kids Lady Einstein had pulled a collapsible tent out and had it ready to provide some shelter for the kids. All four of the kids were soon inside devouring the sandwiches and drinks with an abandon only the young can show. Easyrider and Crazylady came out of the water, adjusting their swimsuits with huge grins on their faces, and again took their place under the umbrella shade. Bikerbabe retreated to the house to make a phone call and Ravenhair and I found ourselves sitting very close together sharing what part of the shade we could from the umbrellas. The rest of the day went quickly as the adult members of the tribe, minus Uncle George and Lady Maria who watched the smaller kids, rushed to the water to play some Frisbee football. The teams were girls versus the guys with Spoilboy on the guy’s side and Scamp playing on the girl’s. Frisbee football has a pretty good history in our little tribe dating all the way back to before many of the older members were married to each other. But even with such a long history the rules of the game are nebulous to say the least with the real objective just to keep the Frisbee moving between people who are in the water. If the Frisbee does stop the other team can pound you into the water and sand. At one point Uncle Paul threw the Frisbee down range toward me in a straight path. A sudden breeze caught it causing it to drift away and up and I turned and ran looking over my shoulder to keep it in sight. Ravenhair was doing the same heading in my direction. While I had been a very good boy so far that day some little portion of my brain saw an opportunity and my sights shifted from the Frisbee to the lady in the yellow swimsuit. But our inertia being what it was instead of just doing a soft tackle, sort of a glorified hug to stop someone, as soon as I had a hold of her our motions caused us both to fall down with her on top of me. I remember the surf receding, my arms wrapped tightly around her holding her close and looking into her smiling face, and her not pulling away. It was a very comfortable few seconds with something else on both our minds until my son came up and broke the moment by kicking me in the side. For the rest of the game though both Ravenhair and I did concentrate our attentions on each other but never could recreate that short moment. Several times I did make a mental note to think about leaving Spoilboy home the next trip down. Our section of the beach had been largely empty but I could tell our collective activities had drawn the attention of those both sitting out in the sand and those just passing by. I can’t speak for other locations but as long as some decorum is observed even the recent heated activities of Easyrider and Crazylady are overlooked on Pawleys. The Frisbee football game lasted long enough for most everyone playing to feel the various impacts from each other and when time was called all were quite happy and exhausted. Time had come for the fish fry but no one had the energy to even begin to handle such an endeavor. Democracy being the blessing it is a motion was made for everyone to get cleaned up then head out to Murrells Inlet to hit the Admiral’s Flagship restaurant, the home of the best seafood in the area.

Even with a house that has only two bathrooms everyone was cleaned up and ready in a near miraculous time. Crazylady wore jeans and something low cut, my aunts wore simple warm weather pant suits, Bikerbabe copied her mother, and Ravenhair wore a sundress that even with our flirtation going on was stunning. The guys all wore Hawaiian shirts that while looked fine for the beach gave a strong impression that the Tom Selleck fan club was in town. Somehow all the kids ended up with me in the starship, mostly wanting to stay together and keep their conversations going. As for a co-pilot, much to my disappointment I almost got saddled with Uncle George until Ravenhair’s boy started yelling for his mom to ride with us. I didn’t argue and as we drove off heading for the restaurant Uncle Paul and Easyrider gave me the first of several knowing looks, I just smiled back as I past them.

Being a rather large crowd we lucked out and got a room all to ourselves and with the restaurant being buffet style we were soon swarming the various serving tables piling our plates high with seafood. It’s hard to describe the feeling that had been in the air all day and had once again set-in as we all settled in enjoying the food and company that surrounded us. Old memories of past events and people were recalled and joked about as was the present day lives of those sitting at the table. It was the knowledge of easy fellowship carrying no animosity or heartache. Bonds that had grown old and faded were renewed as was new ones made. Bikerbabe and I even felt comfortable enough to joke about one of our high school dates that had me walking home from Myrtle Beach late one night after she stole my car. I’m sure we could have stayed there all night, except for the fact that after three trips to refill our plates the manager started to look worried. So we loaded up again into the cars with the intention of heading back to Uncle Paul’s place just to hang out for the rest of the night. Ravenhair rode back with me and all the kids again and while they talked about their kiddy stuff I showed her where Mickey Spillane once lived and how I very briefly meet him once as a kid when my mom, siblings, and I lived in Murrells Inlet in the 70’s. And how he helped me one day when my mom’s demons were riled up and I didn't have enough money at a local store. In returned she opened up about her relationship with Ash’s dad and how she put her life back together after she sent him packing. Our side trip, while unnoticed by the rugrats in the back, lasted long enough for everyone else to make it back to the beach house. Once again I received another look from my uncles this time, even Uncle George saw fit to join the other two. The bigger kids being quite bored with grownups just talking searched out a DVD from Lady Einstein’s collection and settled in on the two couches and big chairs to watch one of the “Star Wars” movies. The younger two later went upstairs to watch a Spongebob marathon and were both sleeping before long. The rest of us sat out on the screened-in porch to listen to various oldies coming from the CD player and the ocean surf. Before long with most the house lights turned off the couples paired off and began dancing both to the slow mellow tunes and when a good beach or fast pace tune played everyone would try to shag, the state dance of South Carolina. Some were experts and really could show off some moves. And then there was me, who couldn’t dance if my life depended on it but my partner didn’t seem to mind. Several hours passed and later on a silence fell among the group and a few went for late night strolls and some just continued to sit on the porch enjoying the breeze and the music turned down low. Ravenhair and I elected for the late night stroll walking north toward one of the many groins, built to inhibit beach erosion, sticking out into the water. The island was fairly dark due to light discipline by the inhabitants to avoid confusing baby loggerhead turtles as they emerge from their buried nests. She and I found a comfortable spot on the sand and spent some time star gazing and exchanging life stories. It was an extremely relaxed and happy moment in time as we shared many things with each other that night. We had both been going through some rough times recently with the person in life we should have been closest to but had found our respective relationships troubled and in question about their very existence. While the night was getting late with midnight fast approaching we did talk about doing something slightly different the next day and began walking back toward the house. Unfortunately we were met by Easyrider coming to find us with word that the world had intruded and plans were going to change. Bikerbabe, who was a nurse at a retirement home, had received an emergency phone call from her work saying that she had to come in for someone the next day. Since Ravenhair had rode down with Bikerbabe she and her son would have to leave very soon. Upon our arrival back at the house the atmosphere was busy as bags and sleepy kids were loaded into Bikerbabe’s car. Far quicker than I liked or could understand they were driving off the island without the goodbye I wanted to say to Ravenhair. The disruption had the added effect of Easyrider and Crazylady deciding to head back home to Georgetown along Uncle George and Lady Maria who were leaving because they wanted to sleep in their own beds. The house was soon silent again as Uncle Paul and Lady Einstein went to bed and I found my kids asleep. Not able to sleep I again began walking the dark beach but alone this time with my thoughts far away.

I ended up sleeping on the couch in the living room listening to the crashing surf from an open window thinking that heaven had to be close to the environment I was in then. My son, Darth Spoilboy, had somehow ended up on the screened-in porch sleeping in the hammock hanging from the rafters. As I listened to the surf rush the shore along with what I thought was rain falling on the roof I heard my daughter coming down the stairs talking to my uncle and aunt's cat. The long haired tomcat had graciously put up with all the visitors the day before without clawing any of the children that had been in the house. I realized Wiggles emergence would force me to fully wake up and get her and my still sleeping son some sort of breakfast. Uncle Paul and Lady Einstein went to bed very tired the night before and Wiggles was not one to let anyone in a house sleep when she was ready for another day of action. While they had plenty of food in the refrigerator they did not need to suffer the almost certain calamitous noise and mess that my daughter can generate. So after getting her dressed, tossing my son out of the hammock, and packing most of our stuff back into my backpack we made our to the car and then to the local burger clown hamburger place. The sky was heavily overcast and raining that morning as we cruised up to the north causeway to drive off the island. The usual collection of morning yuppie bikers and joggers were missing due to the steady rain and intermittent heavy downpours that seemed intent on soaking the island. The rain was so bad at times that I had to leave my window up preventing me from enjoying the smell of the marsh as we drove. A more disconcerting thought about the heavy rain was that I had planned to stay most the day on the beach at Pawleys and only head back home near the end of the afternoon. Dragonwife was back in the Midlands enjoying her favorite pastime of rearranging the various closets in the house and I really wanted to give her as much happy time as I could with her choice of weekend activities. Our premature arrival back home would doubtless see us drafted into her world of organizing piles of junk, hanging closet organizers, and packing then stacking plastic storage boxes.

Driving off the island on the north causeway I said a small prayer of forgiveness to the legendary Pop as I passed the empty and quiet building that once housed his local hamburger stand that had operated from the late 40's into the mid 90's on the way to the burger clown. While he had surrendered operation and later ownership of it to a local couple newly married in the 70's it had been called Pop's Grill until the day it was closed. Pop had passed in 1976, a World War Two combat veteran, whose gruff exterior seemed to fit the stereotype of someone in his line of work but his true nature was a caring and trusted fixture in that small spot of the planet. The couple that took over the place had a good run over the twenty odd years they had it even building on its legendary status. But the influx of newcomers from other parts of the country and the cultural encroachment of national franchises that followed in their wake brought an end to the place. As kids, drawn by television, began wanting the prepackaged and processed chicken nuggets with the cheap toy Pop's Grill faded away as the kids that use to beg their parents to stop and get a burger there began taking their children to the hamburger clown to appease their demands. I have heard a few whispers from long time locals of ghostly sightings of a big guy wearing an apron over a white shirt and jeans with a military crew cut prowling the North causeway at night. This phantom is reported to be whistling a happy tune and waves at people passing him by only to be gone as they look backward in their rearview mirror.

The kids and I entered the burger clown establishment and ordered our food. As much as I hate to admit it the young lady taking our order was courteous and efficient as was the rest of the staff. She smiled and chatted with the kids in a friendly and intelligent manor and acted as if she really cared about what she was doing. It was a huge difference than the usual surly pimply faced teenage boy or ever so bitchy teenage girl that have long since seemly become standard issue at such places. Spoilboy and Wiggles raced to the indoor playground and scurried up its many levels even before I had the table set with our stuff. Not looking a gift house in the mouth I used this time to eat my food in a more relaxed and slow pace without having to referee any issues between them. Looking around the dining area the few scattered people inside were mostly older folks sipping coffee and reading the paper. Instead of the manic rush usual to the burger clown and its clones the lazy relaxed atmosphere was one of an old fashioned diner that existed years ago. In a couple of high corners along the walls two large television sets had CNN or MSNBC on with the sound down and the closed captions on and I could tell that a few people were discussing the news debating the outcome of events. Beach music tunes could be heard playing on the speakers mounted in the ceiling almost giving the soulless corporate entity a human face. Before long my kids came stumbling out the playground and took their seats. The now cold burger clown pancakes that my children had ordered flew apart in seconds. Luckily I had the foresight to slide a little further away as plastic knives and forks whirled through the air at near super-sonic speed. The rainy weather that had threaten to short circuit my plans had begun to break apart with the sun shining through many of the cracks and with my kids full we left and turned back toward the island. As I again passed the ruins of a simpler age I felt some guilt for coming away from the burger clown as impressed and satisfied as I had been. Hopefully, Pop and his cohort Captain Andy were preoccupied chasing female angels and missed my transgression.

My hope for the clouds to move completely out did not happen. While the sun had come out some making the day far brighter huge dark clouds still cruised around like an enemy armada looking for targets on the ground to rain on every now and then. It was still early in the morning as we passed the small Pawleys chapel that had yet to open for its Sunday service and I once again found myself reassessing my plans. Instead of going back to my aunt and uncle's house and bothering them or heading home to Dragonwife I decided that while swimming might be out due to the heavy downpours still coming at a much reduced rate we would just walk on the beach so we headed for the south end of Pawleys. While there are public access points to the beach all down Pawleys Island they are small and are at a first come, first park basis. Private beach houses cover the island and the days of just parking in front of someone's house to spend some time at the beach were long gone when I was a small child. The south end of the island is the exception to this rule providing a relatively large area for the general public to park their cars with plenty of space to enjoy the ocean. If folks from Georgetown said they were going to the beach it was more than likely the place they could be found. The south end is a tongue of land about the size of four football fields, at low tides, that sweeps around from the ocean side through the inlet that joins the ocean to the creek that stands between the mainland and the island. As part of the effort to fight erosion a walking bridge was built at one point to prevent people from flattening the sand dunes separating the parking area from the actual beach. The kids and I crossed over and saw only a couple of guys surf fishing and a few fellow early morning beachcombers walking the sands. Our usual habit has us starting on the ocean side next the old groin and walking around to the creek side to the first private pier sticking out into the creek. The wind was doing its best to blow away the dark armada floating above whipping the surf up to white froth but the enemy still saw fit to loosen volleys of rain from time to time so I left my camera in the parked starship. As we strolled further along checking out various seashells and seaweed along the shore I noticed that one of the two guys surf fishing had hooked something big. His rod was almost bent double and I could see the strain on his face as he fought whatever he had on his line. His buddy was a few feet away and I could see them speaking but not hear their words as the one struggling with his mysterious catch fought to keep it. It took a huge jerk on the line almost yanking the fishing rod from his hands before the other guy came over and began to help. The kids hadn't noticed the age old struggle being replayed now just a few yards in front of us and were content to play in the water and sand but we still slowly walked closer to the fishermen now locked in an embrace I'm sure neither would have condoned or admitted to in any other situation. I was frankly amazed that whatever they had caught hadn't broken the line or fishing rod for that matter and was being worked closer to the shore. The two fishermen were standing on a small sandbar peninsula in water that was about up to their calves when I finally caught sight of the sharp angle of a fins swirling in the deeper water just off their little peninsula. The kids and I were in ankle deep water ourselves and coming close enough for me to alert them to the battle going on in front of us. Darth Spoilboy asked me what the guys had hooked and I told him that the brief flash of fins I saw made the angry fish the two Georgetown boys were wrestling a shark. I quickly had to grab my two to prevent Spoilboy from joining the fight and Wiggles from heading out in the water to give the shark a hug. But we stopped just ten feet away and watched one of the two guys break away from his buddy and actually jump into the deeper water where the shark continued to thrash around. The deeper segment of water went up to just above the guy's knees with him trying to get a hold of the shark’s tail. I had seen enough to tell that this was no young and small shark. I guess the shark was preoccupied with the guy still hold the fishing rod that it was attached to and didn't notice or care about the guy trying to grab its tail. The distraction lasted just long enough for the guy to get a good hold at the base of the tail and begin to pull the shark onto the higher portion of the sandbar and start to drag it onto land. I could see the look of victory in the eyes of the two guys and honestly the size of the shark was pretty big. Using the two guys as measurement it had to run from the five to six foot range. With it fully exposed I could see it was a black tip shark, fairly native to the local waters around Pawleys. The victory the two fishermen expected quickly evaporated even as they drug the watery predator on the shore. Unexpectedly the animal jerked around, almost doubling over and snapped at the guy holding its tail causing him to drop the tail and fall onto the sand. Even from where the kids and I squatted close by we saw the open mouth full of teeth start to squirm toward his tormentor laying on the sand in frozen shock like a deer in the road surprised by headlights from an onrushing car. The guy that had been holding the fishing rod as his buddy handled the shark quickly produced a knife that cut the line severing his connection and then turning and running away. The guy sprawled on the sand quickly recovered himself scrambling away from the fish. As the two fishermen left the area the kids and I watched the sleek black tip shark literally turn itself around and crawl on its fins the several feet back toward the water only to disappear in the waves. As I kicked myself with 20/20 hindsight about leaving the camera in the car I could hear Wiggles yelling bye-bye to the shark as Spoilboy and I prevented her from running toward the water. I never saw where the two fishermen went but the kids and I completed our walk around the south end of Pawleys. At the end the clouds had finally drifted away leaving a bright sunny day. While hanging around and playing in the surf was now an option I felt no need to tempt Sammy the Shark for a little revenge with my kids even though I had been cheering for him as he taught the two guys a lesson about nature. After a brief visit back at Uncle Paul's to say good-bye we made our way toward home. But not before making our way to Sullivan's Island just outside Mount Pleasant, South Carolina to see Fort Moultrie. The kids and I spent the afternoon climbing over gun emplacements and studying the history of that famous place looking out at Charleston harbor.

We returned home Sunday evening and were greeted by Dragonwife who was eager to show off her organizational endeavors. We all tried to show some interest but the weekend in the sun and activities had taken their toll. The kids by this time were pretty tired and since we had picked up dinner on the road were ready for bed, even Spoilboy. With the kids in bed after a quick bath Dragonwife and I sat in the living room watching some movie. I myself was too tired to go upstairs to do anything but watch the movie and recount in my mind all that happen over the last couple of days and wonder about what I wish had happened under the stars Saturday night.


lime said...

sigh....such a weekend. thank you for sharing it, wishes and all.

wishing yo ua happy 2008

Beach Bum said...

Lime: Got the winter blahs and needed some form of pick-me-up. Wrote a much shorter version on my last blog which my son blasted after he downloaded a virus to the hard drive. This version sort of got far too detailed but it helped my mental state.

Keshi said...



Keshi said...

btw good to write abt such stuff..it does help to relieve the stress. TC mate.


Vigilante said...

HappIER New Year, Beach!

Vigilante said...

Oh gawddddd. Good thing I looked twice at this monograph. I almost missed mention of the Legendary Ravenhair. It has finally come to me why I am so taken with her. But I won't say more outta respect for Dragonwife.

Beach Bum said...

Keshi: Happy New Year to and big hugs back.

Vigil: This recounting is a little long but I enjoyed doing it. Believe it or not I left many things out that we observed or did, mainly the great side trip we did to Fort Moultrie. The passing of my grandmother, the serious health issues and the recent passing of my mother, and other serious issues taking place in 2007 totally derailed the usual family gatherings. I did see Easyrider and Crazylady this year but no one else. Yeah, I'm hoping 2008 is far better.

Mike said...

Memories...you got to love 'em. Happy New Year Beach.

Beach Bum said...

Mike: Thanks, someone just call me when spring gets here. Winter sucks.

Vigilante said...

Yep. Seasons are overrated. If California had Carolina Summers (rain!), I'd love to be stuck on summers, 24/365.

Colonel Colonel said...

Great recollections, you can't beat a day at the beach no matter how it turns out. And great shark story- that guy was damned lucky he didn't become dinner. Happy New Year!

Anonymous said...

Memories are what makes life so grand.So is Summer!

Happy New year buddy!

Tequila Mockingbird said...

i have an uncle paul too. but he's totally different. he likes to play drunk monopoly. can that game ever end without people through money and wiping all of the houses off the board?

Beach Bum said...

Vigil: Would trade some sunshine for some rain, we are still hurting.

Colonel: Just wish I had some pictures of the shark and fishermen. It was totally awesome watching this event.

PrepostPondering: Happy New year, saying a prayer of your son and the rest of the family.

Tequila: My Uncle Paul is really cool, he has given me, and the rest of the family, total access to his beach house many times over the years while he and his wife are away. If those walls could talk...

Hillblogger said...

Your stories are simply great.

Beach Bum, you're a born story teller!

Happy New Year to everybody .

Beach Bum said...

Hill: Thank you, and I hope we all have a better yera.

MadMike said...

I love Ravenhair! Thanks for this Beach!!

LittleBill said...

Your stuff is really wonderful, Beach. I will be passing your site on to friends.