Disconnected

On Friday evenings we go to the library for our summer reading club prizes. This week my three-year-old won a little pink pail and shovel. “Just what we needed to go to the beach!” I told the librarian. My poor kids have been taking empty chlorine buckets to the beach because none of the stores I frequent carry pails and shovels.

She lifted up her pail and shovel and asked, “We go to the beach now?”

“Not now, honey,” I answered, wishing that I had time to take them that weekend. The salty air would help with clearing up my allergic cough.

She carried that pail and shovel around the house and yard with her all weekend, repeatedly asking until bedtime, “We go to the beach now?”

So finally Monday morning comes around with promising weather and nothing on our schedule. We go to Cedar Beach in Mount Sinai, carrying nothing but a jug of water, lunch bag, and towels.

I’d spent the morning answering emails and telephone calls and, with my cell phone turned off, I felt free of electronic communications as soon as I left the house.

My husband has been joking that I am going to be sucked into “The Matrix” because I have been spending so much time on the computer. Now that I have my laptop with wireless internet, I can keep it on all the time and go back and forth between that and household business whenever we are in the house.

I carried it upstairs to my desktop computer one night so I could copy my favorite websites from one to the other. I started to get confused working with two computers at once, typing on one keyboard and wondering why it wasn’t showing up on the right screen. That’s when Kevin came up the stairs and made his Matrix joke.

My husband hates computers, the internet, and cell phones. Never mind that he now needs the computer to run his business; he has me to take care of that end. I also forced him to get a cell phone after he got a flat tire in Deer Park at 9:00 one night and had to walk three miles to find a working pay phone.

Our “best man”, Ted, who works in management for the software business, is up on all the latest technology. He laughs at Kevin’s beeper. “You have to make the technology work for you,” he says, as he lays his Blackberry on our kitchen table. A call comes in; he looks at the caller id and ignores it. “See?” Then he explains why “peoplepc” is not an acceptable email suffix for professionals and convinces me to switch over to Gmail.

Really I am an outdoor girl at heart. The computer is just a tool for my writing. I wish I could sit up in a maple tree, as I used to do when I was little, pen some stories into a notebook, and send them anonymously to a publisher, like Louisa May Alcott. Things don’t work like that anymore.

I used to think that it would be great to have a laptop and sit at the beach and write. But once I get there, I am happy not to have it with me. We sit on the white, rocky sand and stare into the face of a white pigeon. The sky is a light blue with puffy little white clouds here and there. Little boats sit beyond the buoys and I wonder who is on them. The older three kids plunge into the water and my three-year-old, shovel and pail in one hand, holds her other hand out to me. We go down to the water. She dares herself to go up to her neck and a speeding boat sends a wave that spills into her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

She laughs in response.

And I realize I haven’t coughed once since we got there.

“Be still and know that I am God!” Psalm 46:10

Moses before the Burning Bush
Domenico Feti, 1613-14
Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

Beauty in the Granite Sky

South Beach

It started out as a muggy, hot and humid day. I was stuck inside with work to do on my computer while waiting for my cable modem to be installed. The kids were tremendously patient, having a ball making mud pies in the backyard. My eldest one was away for the weekend and they were hoping to do something exciting to make her jealous.

“Can we go to the beach?” they asked me repeatedly.

“Maybe…we’ll see…let’s see when the guy gets here and how the weather looks…”

I looked at the newspaper and secretly planned to take them to the movies at 3:20. That time came and went and the installation was still not done. I grabbed my Flannery O’Connor book and sat on the couch, fighting sleep because I hadn’t slept well the night before.

Finally, at 4:30 I was free to leave the house. I looked up at the sky. There were dark grey clouds in one direction. If I drove in the opposite direction I might be able to beat the storm to Smith Point Beach.

“Okay everyone,” I finally declared, “If you want to go to the beach get your suits on and meet me in the car in five minutes.”

It’s amazing how fast kids can get something done when properly motivated.

We drove all the way down William Floyd Parkway. It was remarkable how different the blue sky in front of me looked in comparison with the darkness in my rear-view mirror. By the time we crossed the bridge, the grey was right on the other side of the bridge from the beach.

We walked through the tunnel as the lifeguards were clearing the water. People were leaving in droves, giving us odd looks as we walked in the opposite direction. As we walked onto the beach, the darkness completely covered us. We had traveled light (carrying nothing but cell phone, keys and glasses) and were prepared to run to the tunnel if there was thunder or lightning.

As the ocean came into view, we were struck with awe. The waves were huge in the blue-black water. The huge, billowing granite clouds came almost down to the water, leaving a strip of blue directly over the water as we looked straight ahead. To our sides, light grey came all the way down to the ocean.

“Maybe it will blow over,” suggested my ever-optimistic ten-year-old who has an uncanny tendency to be correct.

“Somehow I doubt that, but it was definitely worth coming just to see this. Too bad I didn’t bring my camera.” I checked the time on my cell phone. 5:05. We’d probably be out of there by 5:15.

The kids climbed on top of a mound of sand. “You stay on top of there,” I warned my three-year-old. I could see the force of the rip tide. Ever daring, she tried to step off. “The ocean wants to take you away,” I said jokingly but meaning it quite seriously, knowing with her personality this comment wouldn’t scare her but give her a healthy respect of the ocean, “Do you want to go out there or stay here with your Mommy?”
She gave me a smile and a hug that meant, “Definitely here with you, although that sure looks fascinating.”

“Too bad you didn’t bring your camera,” my daughter said.

“You should write about this on your blog,” said my son.

“Well, sometimes it is good just to take in a scene and store it in your memory. I can definitely describe this in words,” I promised.

At 5:15 it started to rain, lightly. The few families around us left. Apart from a few surfers, we were alone on the beach. “Let’s go,” I said. I turned around and saw that the shades of grey were lightening, letting in bits of blue. “Or maybe not. Let’s see what happens.”

By 5:25 it had stopped raining and the sun was making its entrance through a hole in the clouds behind us. The blackness in front of us had turned to dark blue. The waves became calmer and I allowed the kids to put their feet in. “Just your feet, if you get your clothes wet we’ll never do this again.”

I tucked my ten-year-old’s glasses into my shirt for safe keeping. Last time we came at night she lost them under a wave and these were a replacement pair. I had made the same threat last time, but this is one that they know I don’t follow through on. I held onto both my three-year-old hands and kept vigilant watch that the eight- and ten-year-olds didn’t go past their knees. I hoped I wouldn’t drop my daughter’s glasses myself.

Now the sky above us was such a pretty pattern of changing blues and whispy white clouds. I hated that we would have to leave soon, but we still had to shower, eat dinner, and get to the library.

At 5:45 we went up to the boardwalk to clean off. The showers were too cold, so I washed the little one’s feet and shoes (as well as my own) in the warm water fountain. We had forgotten to take towels, so we got into the leather seats of the car as we were.

On the way back, we re-entered a uniform grey mist. The rain increased as we came closer to our house.

We’d salvaged a little beauty from what most would call a really crummy day.

Nature Walk at Cedar Beach

I had a great deal of trouble with the original article that I published on Cedar Beach. I had 22 pictures and most of the images were broken. After much trouble and the submission of a "ticket" to the help center, I discovered that I had a maximum of 10 pictures per article. Therefore I was forced to redo the article and cut it into two. I removed most of the pictures of the nature walk (the best part) and made a whole new article out of it. You can view this companion article here.

Cedar Beach in Mount Sinai: A Photojournalistic Piece

On Monday I took the children to Cedar Beach, on the North Shore of Long Island. I published this photojournalistic piece at my new Examiner column. I think you will enjoy the pictures even if you are not from the area.

Spontaneity – Part I

“So, are the kids looking forward to going back to school?” I was asked a few times this week.

“No, not at all,” is my honest answer.

True, there was some excitement today as a letter arrived from school today. Classmates called my eldest daughter asking what homeroom teacher she was assigned to. Her dearest friend was in her class again.

My son’s little life has become one of utmost misery as he mopes through two whole pages of summer work per day. I must keep watchful vigil over him lest I find him outside playing baseball with only one section of a page complete. A broken pencil tip, a misunderstood phrase, or not being able to find the right color crayon to follow the directions are all excellent excuses to wander off.

“Why would they be looking forward to school?” responded one of my recent houseguests to me, “Summer is bliss at your house.”

Ahh, bliss is the perfect word to describe the past week. I have had the most blissful week of reading. Truth be told, if you look at the cup as half full, I was stuck home last week because the transmission finally went on my husband’s car, which had about 270,000 miles on it. He was looking for a replacement as work allowed. A few times we had to get somewhere and he managed to get home to give us a ride.

When we went to pick up the “newer” car yesterday, I thought of all the places I could go. I was definitely due for food shopping. The baby fell asleep in the back seat and had to be put in for her nap. So I decided to go home and finish reading the Anne of Green Gables series. We had eggs and blueberry pancakes for supper and the kids were delighted! (I had a terrific time shopping by myself later, after my husband had gotten home; I had almost every aisle to myself!)

This morning we woke up close to the afternoon. I looked at the newspaper and saw that it was going to be one of the last nice days before school started. One final opportunity to get to the beach. I put my eleven-year-old in charge of packing up lunches, towels, and sunscreen while I got my toddler and myself ready to go.

I have to admit that this was not the best time we have had at the beach. It was on the cool side, the water was full of seaweeds, and the kids had forgotten to pack the sunscreen. They had also conveniently forgotten to pack their little brother’s water bottle – but that came back to bite them, as he couldn’t be left parched and they had to share theirs with him. We put the baby in a hat and one of the kids’ t-shirts, which covered almost all of her skin from neck to ground, and stayed for just a little over an hour. But, just like they say about pizza, even a “bad” day at the beach is better than none.

We had a chicken for dinner and went for a walk afterwards. This is the kind of spontaneous life we live during vacations. Soon we will be marching to the rhythm of the school schedule, and that is okay too. But these days are ours, to do – or not do – with them whatever we like. What a wonderful feeling!

Painting by V. Ovchinnikov, "Girl and waves", 1958.

At Long Last, The Beach!

Tan legs
Sandy hair
Salty skin
Aaah. . .
Feels like summer!

We finally got to the beach today, for the first time this summer. That is not counting a brief walk to the marina near our friend’s house last week, as we did not go in the water. Although my brave nine-year-old came close to falling in off the pier. . .

It is quite unusual for us to start our beach season so late into summer, but we were busy with several household projects that prevented our going until today. It helped that we had made plans with some friends to meet them there. This way we could not get side-tracked and miss another golden opportunity.

It did manage to rain at about noon, and I frequently looked worriedly out the window at the water in a wagon on the deck, judging the frequency of raindrops in the small pool. It seemed to clear up, and I called the beach to make sure the conditions there were friendly.

My friend called me at 1:00, just as the sun really came out to play, and we confirmed a 1:45 meeting. She was a little worried that something might happen to prevent her being there on time, having her own four children to get ready, and I promised not to throw her to the sharks if she was late.

What a fuss it is to get ready! I am a firm believer in packing light, and everyone must carry his or her fair share. Towels, water, sunscreen, a camera, a spare diaper, and sunglasses are all that we require. Hands are adequate tools for castle-building; a protein-packed lunch keeps us from having the munchies before dinner; and who needs a chair when you plan on being active on the shoreline?

Still we wound up being a half-hour late. We were about to get into the car, when my son announced he could not find his other water shoe. We were going to “the rocky beach”, and these were going to be a necessity. Everyone had to help him. I finally found it under a Little Tykes car in the back yard. That side-tracked us fifteen minutes.

Then, five minutes down the road, I realized I had forgotten the diaper bag. This I usually keep handy by the front door so I can quick grab it on my way out. But I had put it into the front closet while sweeping. I also had forgotten the vinegar, which would come in handy in the case of a jelly fish sting. (I know I am adding to the above short list. But an abundance of lion’s mane jelly fish had been big news in the newspaper over the weekend, with 30 stings per day being reported at this particular beach in contrast with the normal 2 per day.)

Fortunately, my friend, who is quite sweet and patient, was about 15 minutes late herself, thus shortening her wait for us.

We had a wonderful time, with no sign of jellyfish. The rain must have scared them away. It also kept away many other prospective beach clientele, and we had much of the shore to ourselves.

My toddler was a little difficult, not quite knowing what to think of the waves, sand, and rocks. It has been over six months since she was last at the beach. She did not like her water shoes; neither did she appreciate the sand and rocks on her bare feet. She could not decide if she wanted to be in the water or on dry land. Mommy’s arms would do. Suffice it to say that she tired me out, carrying her back and forth the entire time. Toward the end, she seemed to be more comfortable, so I think we have broken her in for the next visit.

After about two hours, my son thought he got stung by a jellyfish, and I treated him with the vinegar. All the kids suddenly decided that they were really itchy, coincidentally after having a seaweed fight. As no signs of a jellyfish sting have appeared on my son, I do believe it was just itchies from the seaweed.

Anyway, we were now afraid to have the children re-enter the water, and realized time was getting away from us. So we packed up our stuff, put it into our cars, and let them play on the playground for a spell.

We said good-bye at 5:40, the time I am usually cleaning up after dinner. Then we started planning for the post-beach cleanup.

“I get the first shower!” announced my eleven-year-old.

“I get the second!” declared my son.

“No, you always take too long and use up all the hot water. You have to go last,” decided my nine-year-old. I concurred.

The baby, who had missed out on her normal nap time, fell asleep on the way home. Now everything was completely off schedule. Dinner was not ready until 8:00, and my husband was quite surprised to find the baby still up when he arrived home at 9:30.

Fresh and clean after my long-awaited shower, I applied a little creamy baby oil to soften my sun-kissed skin. I felt like I had been to a spa.

And now it really feels like summer.

The painting above, “Bucket Brigade Children On Beach”, is an original by Kay Crain. This artwork is part of the dailypainters.com meme for sharing of artwork and blogs by artists and writers.

Stand Up For Life!

At fourteen months, my youngest daughter is just now starting to bring herself to a stand in the middle of the room. As we have all been holding our breaths for this moment, she takes in the attention gleefully. Eyes shining, smile wide, she looks around the room as we clap for her. She claps for herself and says, “Yay!” as my son counts the number of seconds she is able to stand.

As much as we are happy to see her developmental progress, neither are we in a rush to see her leave babyhood behind.

Today, after my eldest daughter’s cross-country meet, it was so hot out that we went down to the beach area. “Only up to your knees,” I warned the children, knowing what was bound to happen anyway. As I held the baby in up to her knees, my eight-year-old “accidentally” fell in. It was all over after that. My children and all the cross-country teammates were soon ALL in, clothes and all. We got a great picture to send to our coach.

Tomorrow we will take part in the Eastern Long Island “Stand Up For Life” prayerful vigil, as well as the “Baby Bottle Campaign”. My daughters will be giving out baby bottles after church, to collect for needy moms-to-be. Later we will be standing, along with schoolmates and other pro-lifers from across Long Island, with placards in hand. Lots of apple-pickers will be stuck in traffic taking in our message to respect the life of the innocent unborn. This will be my first real pro-life event I’ve taken part in. I will be sure to report back all my observations!

From 40 Days for Life:
The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops
(USCCB) recognizes Sunday, October 7, as "Respect Life
Sunday" and has many resources for that day, as well as
the rest of Respect Life month. Get more info here.

Sunday, October 7, is the 20th nationwide Life
Chain, a peaceful and prayerful witness of Americans
standing for one hour praying for our nation. These
wonderful events will be held in hundreds of cities
across America and many 40 Days for Life locations are
participating in Life Chain as part of their efforts.
The founder and president of Life Chain, Royce Dunn,
has been one of the most vocal supporters of 40 Days
for Life and he is an amazing man of faith! Learn more.

Painting above by Stefan Lochner (born 1442 - died 1451)
“Madonna Of The Rose Bush”, 1450, Oil on canvas

The Ocean

The Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the Shallow and the Deep, the Transparent and the Opaque. One thousand aspects of God, apparent paradoxes yet co-existing in scientific beauty, can be seen reflected in the Sea. One day it is calm and soothing; another day gentle yet playful; and yet another wild, turbulent, frightening. Unpredictable and untamed, He shows himself in the way he knows He is needed at the moment.

Autumn is the perfect time to visit the ocean. The crowds have long gone home, the sand is clean, and shells sit pristinely ready for the picking. If you have the opportunity to visit the sea, take it, and see what God has to tell you about His Nature.

“The waters of the sea were gathered as in a bowl;
in cellars the deep was confined.”
Psalm 33:7

Photograph taken by me at Smith Point Beach, Long Island, New York, yesterday.