Memory time of days at the beach

“Thank you so much Ron for sharing the Balboa story with us. Loved it and we are picturing your pitiful face as the ferry pulls away from the dock. We love you even if they didn’t!

I remember being a preteen and playing in the Bay (we stayed on the peninsula - island too expensive) and we loved the ocean side too). I was swimming under water and came up and the most adorable boy about my age was coming up at the same time - possibly 3 feet away and we stared at each other. He was tan, had tons of curly hair and big blue eyes. His eyelashes were so long they were sticking together. It was love at first sight. We didn’t speak, but stole glance at each other all day.

The next day as I was laying on a towel at the same beach sunbathing with my parents, this same boy began building a beautiful sandcastle just a short distance from my feet. My mother (who knew I was smitten) kept poking me and telling me to say something. I never got the courage to say anything and neither did he. His memory filled my thoughts for a long time. Kinda sad that shyness/fear can possibly cause us to miss out on an experience. Wonder what would have occurred if we had spoken.”

Linda Adams Hendrix wrote this piece, and I am pleased to say she is my sister-in-law. I think it is very, very well written.

Linda’s remembrances about her time on Newport beach has kindled up high school memories of my own.

I was the lucky kid on the block; I had a car. We lived in Southern California and going to the beach was a ritual. One trip, my buddies and I headed south on Pacific Coast Highway, to just beyond Laguna to a lonely beach. We staked out a piece of sand next to an escarpment, and put down our sleeping bags. The sun was setting and we were pretty hungry so we built a fire, roasted wieners, warmed up a can of beans, and chowed down. When the fire burnt itself out, we climbed into our sleeping bags and crashing waves lullabied us to sleep. Heaven.

Next day, the further south we went the smaller the road got. When we crossed into Mexico, there was hardly any traffic at all and camped on a bluff beside the beach. During the night the fog rolled in. As we peeked out of our sleeping bags next morning, we were greeted by a flock of sheep making their way through our camp. This was a big treat for a bunch of kids from Hollywood High.

Time spent at the beach is prime time. We can’t help ourselves and relax and absorb the life round us. We connect the vastness of the ocean, the expanse of the sky, the scratchiness of sand on our bodies and inhale the fragrant saltiness of the air. Our mind slows and our imagination takes over. It is time well spent.

Ron Walker can be reached at walkover@gmx.com