After mumbling under my breath at all the Facebook pictures I’ve had to endure over the past couple of years with friends sharing their pictures of the beach while I stayed home, I finally got my chance at the big pond this past week.
I took most of the family, with the exception of the lovely wife who had just returned home from her girls trip to Europe (aren’t we fancy). This included my sons, ages 9 and 17, my brother-in-law, age 19, and my mother, age – well, I’m not allowed to reveal that delicate information.
I really wanted to take my mother since it has been 60 years since she has been to Florida. Despite growing up on Wells Beach in Maine, where she developed a healthy fear of the ocean, mom hadn’t been back to the sea since we visited Maine 37 years ago. While I may be moaning about not being the beach in a couple of years, mom had a legitimate complaint since decades had passed since her last visit.
It was a return of sorts for Henry who was 7 when we last traveled to Daytona Beach. I can vividly recall how much he enjoyed the ocean, the normally squeamish kid charging into the water seemingly without fear when we were last there. However, much like not seeing an old friend in some time, Henry was a bit timid when he first stepped foot in the ocean this time. I had warned mom to stop talking about the shark attacks in North Carolina on the way down since it seemed to be a topic of conversation with her and I knew it’d spook Henry.
Actually, I think it more spooked Jack who, the last day we were in the ocean, showed a bit of skittishness when surveying the surf while holding his boogie board. Prior to that, he had been bravely hitting the beach.
“It looks a bit shady out there,” he said, eyeing some white caps about a 100 yards out. “Anything could be lurking.”
The whole issue wasn’t helped by the constant advertisement for Shark Week on TV. Plus, I pointed out, not thinking about it, the original "Jaws" was set on the week leading up to the Fourth of July. Therefore, every time we walked past a banner or flag, it reminded us of what might be lurking beneath the waves.
Now mom, she never got close enough to the ocean to get bit by even a sand flea. She did, however, pose for a few pictures in her new sun hat, standing on our hotel balcony.
“Hold on,” she said, grabbing her new smiley teeth dentures before posing for the picture. “Let me go put my smile teeth in.”
As for Henry, he soon rekindled his love for the ocean as each day he got braver and braver until on the last day I had to forbid him from venturing too deep into the surf.
Hopefully we won’t have to wait nearly three years for our next trip to the beach. Regardless, I’ll make sure the next one isn’t during Shark Week.
Standard reporter Duane Sherrill can be reached at 473-2191.