What got me out on the beach, even on a weekend
We stepped into the sea simultaneously, for different reasons, but ultimately, with the same goal in mind.
For as long as I can remember, the beach and I have been the best of friends — the sun, the surf, the sand and me — that is until Friday afternoons and the approach of another summer weekend.
Suddenly, my BFF and I find our seemingly forever friendship mysteriously morphing into that of estranged acquaintances.
Summer Saturdays and Sundays means crowds, and while my oceanic pal may like the additional company, I don’t.
So our friendship temporarily hits the pause button — only to resume Monday mornings when the sun worshippers camped along the ocean’s edge are once again considerably fewer.
She knew this, and even mentioned it when she called.
Had it been anyone else, I would have immediately said no, but this wasn’t just anyone else — this was our daughter, Tracy, inviting Karen and me to go to the beach with her on Sunday morning.
A summer Sunday? At the beach, seriously? My response was the same as my wife’s: Absolutely. Let’s go.
How could we not?
So there we were, driving across the sand, just short of the waves, early, before the arriving crowds would begin laying claim to their temporary pieces of salty real estate.
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Tracy had mentioned that the tide and temperature might be favorable should I decide to bring my surf poles.
I was impressed that she paid attention to such things — knowing her information had more to do with surfing than with my with desire to attract some fish to the business end of my two baited lines.
After watching the way the waves were breaking, Tracy chose for us the optimum place to park. I positioned my truck a safe distance from the surf, and then got down to the business of rigging my gear as Tracy began waxing her board.
Once our pre-water preparations were completed, we stepped into the sea simultaneously, for different reasons, but ultimately with the same goal in mind.
I wish I could say Tracy rode some awesome waves that morning and that I landed a record catch, but neither would be true.
The waves were gentle and my bait remained untouched, but none of this mattered — because we weren’t there to surf or to fish anyway.
We came to the beach that morning to spend some time together.
Although we’d had plenty of phone conversations, Karen and I hadn’t seen Tracy for most of the summer — even though she lived just 8 miles away.
Working nonstop at a couple of jobs, Sunday would be her one day off — and she wanted to spend this one with her mom and dad, which is just what she did.
Following college graduation, Tracy began working at one, then two, then three jobs — all in our little resort town. When the autumn arrived and her summertime positions departed, so too did she — for a job in Hawaii.
Returning last May, she found another local beach-based position, and when the summer season ended, she returned to Hawaii and Waikiki.
Oh, to be young!
I once wrote a piece about Tracy growing up and how I was looking forward to her many milestones yet to come: chubby little legs taking their first uncertain steps; first words, first tooth, first grade; of high school and boyfriends, driving lessons, the college years — things like that.
Suddenly, 5,000 miles separate us and these milestones have come and gone — faster than I could’ve ever imagined. But still, my love and concern for her well-being remains everlasting — never to be relinquished by the passage of time, distance or circumstance.
And so, it’s with a dash of melancholy and a dose of paternal pride that I reluctantly concede: my little blue-eyed, blonde baby dear has indeed grown up — and to be perfectly honest, this pop couldn’t be any prouder.
Had it been anyone else, I would have immediately said no, but this wasn’t just anyone else.
Should Tracy one day return and again ask if we’d like to spend another summer Sunday with her and my best friend — the beach, of course — you already know what my answer is going to be!
Stephen Rusiniak lives in Wayne, New Jersey and West Ocean City.
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