Day at Ogunquit

July 31, 2013

Old habits die hard. For all of the years that we worked in education, summer seemed to be over as soon as August hit. It didn't matter whether we were working or not, it just felt like summer was done. It was all about the anticipation of the arrival of the new crop of kids and the beginning of another teaching year. How many months of summer relaxation and fun were wasted in angst over what was to be, rather than what was. The children don't return for us anymore, but we still anticipate the slipping away of our summers. At our age, I suspect that we are really anticipating the slipping away of something else. Nevertheless, the feeling revives in us the need to see the ocean and we head there like lemmings to the cliffs. We set out for Ogunquit Beach, as predictably as the swallows to Capistrano. Generally, Anne and I prefer to go somewhere new rather than return to a spot we have visited before. Ogunquet is the exception. We have been here a zillion times and never seem to tire of its familiarity.

Along the way, we stopped for breakfast at a small diner near the turnoff to Harrisville, NH. The place is called, "Audrey's" and the meals are good, but not stellar. Did I say stellar? I meant to say it is not "Stella's". A recent visit to Newburyport, MA to breakfast at a favorite joint ... only to dine on disappointment when we found it to no longer exist still meanders about the recesses of my brain and sashays its way to my consciousness unannounced.

It is all about Brando ...Stanley Kowalski ... in his tattered T-shirt struggling to contain his bulging chest as he calls out to Stella. At "Stella's", my imagination ran amuk as I helped myself to a Walter Mitty moment. But 'Stella's" is no more.  I can't really see myself standing outside the door of this diner , my tattered T-shirt struggling to contain my massive stomach, and yelling, "Audrey ... Audrey"!



In due time, we arrived at Ogunquet Beach. I looked around and to my surprise everything was calm ... business as usual. I fully expected to see hoards of senior citizens with protest signs reading "unfair to the near dead". Instead, the sheep were lining up and complacently handing over the $20 parking fee. Had the parking lot next to the beach not been full, I am sure the $25 fee would have driven me over the edge. I waited my turn ... handed over my $20 ... and parked. The wool about my neck itched considerably, but I ignored it and began to unload the car. Unloading the car at the beach was the second reminder that I am a senior citizen. In case you don't know, that means "On a fixed income and not ashamed to say it."




Marketing majors are exceptional people ... except for me ... I am the exception to the exceptional.  Marketing majors know how to suck the marrow from a bone. Like the parking fees ... what the traffic will allow ... they know most people will pay any outrageous price to park close to the beach. So they charge whatever they chose and we pay. Baaa baaaa baaaaa!  Marketers are also students of history. No sooner had man tamed the donkey and figured out it could carry a lot more stuff than a man, than the cave marketing majors designed the first packs to put on donkeys backs in order to increase the load until the donkey's knees buckle. For today's donkey, the design comes in the form of the beach cart.  Like the one in the picture above. It enables the man donkey to carry ten times more stuff to the beach in order to turn the  beach into the living room back home. Add a cup holder to the design and you can charge a premium for it. I forgot to take a picture of Anne or me , oops, I mean me, dragging the cart the quarter mile to the beach. The couple in the picture, however, look very similar to us.




As I wheeled our cargo onto the beach, I put aside my tirades for the moment and proceeded to find a reasonable spot to set up our traveling condo. In a matter of minutes, we had wedged our way in between the sea of umbrellas.  Time to have some fun.



Once you get on a beach, they are all pretty much the same ... they have more or less sand ... more or less rocks ... more or less razor sharp broken shells ... more or less stinging jellyfish and more or less shark sightings.  You, on the other and, are more or less just one more fried piece of fatback on an endless sand griddle. Or, you become ... not one more grain of sand in the Sahara Desert ... you become "the" grain of sand in the Sahara Desert. I chose to set myself apart with the Panama Jack, pink flamingo T-shirt, intellectual look. I have to be honest with you.I am just too dumb to read Dylan Thomas.  I have been trying to read this selection of his poems for 6 months and to be honest, I don't have a clue what in the hell he is talking about. Not talking about on the poem level. I don't get it one line at a time.  Virginia Teach did not prepare me for Dylan Thomas and the Baptist Church was more about Doubting Thomas and those P songs rather than poetry. But ... the people walking by on the beach don't know that!

Nothing like reading something in a foreign language to wear a guy out. That and taking a dip in sub-zero temperature ocean water. I never seem to remember just how cold the water at Ogunquet is. By the time the first wave washed over my waistline, my manhood was in full retreat and my teeth were clicking like a hyperactive kid with a ball point pen.








One of the drawbacks to being senior citizens is that one of you has to be on guard duty at all times. Since I was doing the driving, Anne had to be on guard duty. All in all, it is not that bad. They person on guard gets to partake of all the usual enjoyments of the beach except taking a little snooze in the warm sun on the blanket. Instead, they must constantly monitor their sleeping spouse. If need be, they must be at the ready to wipe away the spittle if the senior citizen drool appears, or to gently shut the mouth if the mouth drops open and the snoring commences. Of course, this would never happen to me.


About 3:30PM, we packed up and abandoned the beach. The alignment of the planets and stars was such that simultaneous events occurred to impact our lives. First, Anne began to spray on sun screen, 90% of which blew away in the wind. At the exact same instant, I began my tirade about how manufacturers planned for that exact waste in order to sell more product. Thirdly, and strangest of all, Anne realized it was time to go ... and we headed for the Marginal Way.

The Marginal Way is a walking path overlooking the ocean from Ogunquet Beach to Perkins' Cove. The view is fantastic and we never go to Ogunquet without taking the walk. I used to hang some of my hanging stone sculptures there along the trail for others to find. That was years ago ... before I got the letter signed by The People of Ogunquet telling me that I was killing the trees and for me to stop. It would have been better if they had just said they didn't like the pieces ... I would have understood. But, who can stand up to A People?

When I stopped hanging stones, I started making stone stackings along the rocky shoreline instead. The People don't speak for the coastline like they do for the Marginal Way.  Over the last few years, lots of people have been stacking rocks along that stretch.







I just had to do a stacking while I was there. Anne was gracious enough to hang out for about 45 minutes while I did my stacking. Either that or she was weak from lack of food since I forgot all about lunch and the lobster rolls she had mentioned that she wanted.

Doing a stacking is important to me. I usually am pretty satisfied with how the stacking turns out. I admit, I liked this one.












I also like to see how the piece looks framed against the sea.  Anne was able to catch one shot with a sailboat in the background that I liked a lot.

We finished our hike along the Marginal way and caught the trolley back to the town center. I had to stop at a favorite t-shirt shop to pick up a few of the $5 T's (agh unstained t-shirts). The growling in our stomachs reminded us how long it had been since we had had breakfast. We were starved.

We picked out a lobster pound near York Beach on the way home. Hunger was a factor, but the reality was that we just lost control for a moment while ordering. We ordered way way way to much. The bad thing was that the two of us ate it ALL.  It was good! We have no shame ... nor do we stand on scales. Our dinner ... three lobsters with drawn butter, steamers with drawn butter, fried clams with tartar sauce, corn with drawn butter, Caesar salad, fish chowder, slaw and iced tea.

And for an appetizer ... I had a Zun dog .... hot dog with a mayo, onion, pickle relish

What can I say" Another great day at the beach!