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| Pine Knoll Shores, NC |
I'm hoping that our grandchildren's fondest memories will include time at the beach with us riding the waves, fishing off piers, DQing and playing board games. After all, we all live in North Carolina just 3 hours down Hwy 70 to the Atlantic Ocean.
But my childhood was in the Midwest suburbs of St. Louis. Seaside bonfires and cotton sweaters were not us. Trips to Bermuda or London or Paris was not us. We might wild-swim in the Missouri Ozarks, float down a river in an inner-tube (phased out by the 70's), and spend long afternoons in our neighborhood public pool. But when writers recall summers in The Hampton's or upper New York resorts like the one in "Dirty Dancing" (a classic I know by heart--and was in fact filmed in North Carolina near Chimney Rock), it's foreign to me. Our parents, my brother's and mine, were professionals--teacher and librarian--so we weren't poor. But we were, it seems, often broke. My husband and I the same when he was a pastor in a country parish and I a stay-at-home mom/grad student.
Like Chicago, New York, L.A., and many big cities, St. Louis in those days was a fine place for a stay-cation, which was promoted by our parents for my brother and me as just as good as anything we might have envisioned as a "real" trip. So we would spend a day at the St. Louis Art Museum (we return there often on our road trips back to St. Louis); catch a few Cardinal games; seek out the gorilla at the St. Louis Zoo; swelter in the Forest Park Jewel Box Greenhouse; spend an afternoon at Shaw's Botanical Garden; visit the Jefferson (Jeff) Memorial, and more. By high school my brother and I knew our city backwards and forwards. We knew its history (site of the 1904 World's Fair) and the history of the environs: Hannibal, Missouri where Mark Twain set Tom Sawyer , the caves where Tom and Becky were lost, and the Mississippi River where Huck and Jim adventured. We were Missouri born and bred.
Now, in North Carolina, summer comes a different way. In retirement, the rhythms of the school year are long gone, even for my husband who taught at Duke University. The seasons flow into one another. All of a sudden our pool is warm enough for a swim. I count the strokes, one, two, three...changing strokes, crawl, back float, scissors-kick. Swimming is a Flow State. No other thought but holding my breath, moving, watching for the wall, noticing my body--in the small 70's concrete pool right outside my door, lovely poolside shower in the open air.
At my age we don't so much build memories. We live each day, doing what our bodies allow us to do. Mine is kind to me, allowing gardening, cooking, collaging, some walking, swimming and all those mental things we love: reading, writing, keeping friends and family close. Except for the limitations of age, it's almost (almost) like being a kid again. We can head off to the beach for weeks at a time and share our house there with other family members as well.
Actually, there's nothing much better than a good memory, is there? Of course, we have bad events in our pasts. Who doesn't? But remembering the good builds confidence. I was this child who is now this adult, and I have survived and flourished. Summers were welcomed and formed us into people who have friends, make good times for others, and care for ourselves.
As I keep my outdoor plants alive with water and loving care--red and white salvia and purple sage, geraniums and impatiens--cook summertime meals and watch nighttime series or movies (no longer with kids to tuck in), I am grateful for another season. Do you ever feel you can't possibly deserve all your blessings? This long, hot summer I am feeling like that.
With love, Nina Naomi
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