Ocean

You would think that growing up in the Idaho panhandle, only about 400 miles from the Pacific Ocean, that my first recollections of the ocean would be the rocky coast of Washington State. Well, my parents never ventured west of Spokane. Idaho is said to have two capitals, Spokane, Washington, and Salt Lake City, Utah. Spokane was the center of commerce for us, and only about 75 miles away. Sprague Avenue, on the extreme Eastern side of Spokane was the favored business district for Northern Idaho folks who had a hankerin’ for big city shopping. Long before the evil empire of Wal-mart existed, there was a store called Value-mart that my mother particularly loved. My mother never saw the Pacific Ocean and my dad’s only visit to the left coast was navy training in San Diego during WWII.

As my parents came from coastal Georgia and Florida and all our kin were still there, we would make an annual summer trip to that region. Never mind that it took as about three or four days each way, pretty much eating up Dad’s vacation in transit. Our trip would always include a visit to Jacksonville, Fernandina, or Jekyll Island Beach. .This was before sunscreen, so I would burn and peel and burn and peel. About once a year I have a carcinoma removed that was a product of mom rubbing Wesson Oil on my back and sending me out in the July sun. That would be considered child abuse these days. In 1960 it was good parenting.

I remember the affect the Ocean had on me. As I child, the sea did not offer me the tranquility and catharsis that it does as an adult. Standing knee-deep in the surf had a similar affect as looking down from a very tall building (of which there are none in Idaho). I was both thrilled and terrified. The vastness still overwhelms me as an adult.

My first visit to the Pacific Ocean was on my honeymoon, in June of 1972. We went to Lincoln City, Oregon (big spender). My first impression was that the water was more the color water should be and less like milk than the Atlantic and the waves were much larger. Since I was now 19 and had lost nearly all of my childhood inhibitions, along with common sense, I immediately ran and dove into the churning water. I soon learned the major difference between the two oceans. While the Gulf Stream and intense summer heat raises the Florida seawater to roughly the temperature of bath water, the Oregon water in June is freaking cold. Had I not been in the prime condition of a virile 19 year old, I am certain my heart valves would have seized up like the pistons on my 1972 Gremlin (another story). To quote George Costanza, there was “significant shrinkage.” My testicles were trying to find a place to hide. Not the best scenario for a romantic honeymoon.

Now I live in Myrtle Beach and have daily access to the ocean. Though I take it for granted now and go through long periods without visiting, I know it is there when I need it. I particularly enjoy walking the beach in the winter. It is the off-season for tourists and the beach is nearly deserted and only Canadians are foolhardy enough to enter the water. In the cold grey of winter, just the seagulls and me, and an occasional geezer hunting for treasure with a metal detector. When I first moved here I threw some popcorn to a couple of stray gulls. Rookie mistake. They didn’t keep it to themselves and called their buddies. Soon I had hundreds of their friends strafing me. But no matter how stressed I am and how bad my day has been, a visit to the beach is all the therapy I need. Oh yeah, it is great here in the summer too. The scenery is much more interesting. A different kind of bird altogether. They still tell their friends everything though. .