I’ve always enjoyed going to the beach on vacation. As a boy, we went to Panama City many times and later to Myrtle Beach. The thing I enjoyed the most was riding the waves. I always had one of those rectangular blow-up floats that felt like it was made of canvas. Dan and I would venture out into the waves and see how far we could ride them back in. By the end of the day, my chest was almost raw from diving onto the top of that float, but it didn’t stop me from starting all over again the next day.
By the time my children came along, boogie boards were common and were a vast improvement over the floats. When my boys were riding the waves, I was right there with them. They were both excellent swimmers, and even though I kept an eye on them, I wasn’t really worried too much about their safety. I knew the most common danger was rip currents. We talked about them and how easy it was to deal with them if you knew how. No worries.
If you love the ocean, Dutchtown really isn’t the place for you. I believe the closest ocean beach is maybe three and half hours away at Tybee Island. One year when they first started doing fall breaks in mid to late September, that’s where we went. The beach was not empty, but there was plenty of room for people to spread out. The lifeguards were gone until Spring, so you were on your own, but again, no worries.
We spent the afternoon riding waves on our boogie boards, and we were wrapping up our day. Mark had gone back to the beach where Cheryl and Jennifer were to grab a snack or a drink. James had left his boogie board on the beach, but I still had mine attached to my wrist. James and I were leisurely bobbing over the waves as they came in, looking out into the vast ocean where there was nothing but water all the way to Morocco.
Then I noticed that I wasn’t touching the bottom when I bobbed down. After a few seconds, I turned around and noticed we had drifted a little too far out. James realized the same thing and started swimming back to shore. I pulled myself onto my boogie board and started paddling back, but I was getting further away from shore, losing ground. At this point, I’m maybe 200 yards from shore. James is making some progress, but he’s exhausted. Mark notices we are in some trouble and he starts coming out into the water.
At this point, I figured out that we were in a rip current. It took way too long, but at least it finally registered. I yelled at Mark to stay back. I yelled at James to come back to me. Now, these two boys who never did anything the first time you told them chose the perfect time to break with tradition. Mark stopped. James turned, and the current spit him back out to me within seconds. He was exhausted and said he couldn’t swim anymore. I told him that was cool, and he could just get on the boogie board and ride. I yelled at Mark a second time to stay back. Then I swam parallel to the beach for maybe 50 feet and then angled back into shore with James in tow. As James and I walked out of the water, Mark greeted us, and all he said was: “I heard you the first time.”
I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I hadn’t been tethered to that boogie board. Would I have tried to swim back and been exhausted like James? Would I have been too panicked to realize Mark was coming into the danger zone? Would I have figured it out in time? No one knows, but in reality, it was a few minutes that didn’t amount to much of anything. But there was a lesson. Our lives are so very fragile, and everything can change in an instant. Slow down. Hug them a little longer, hold them a little tighter…because you just never know.
“And so taking the long way home through the market I slow my pace down. It doesn’t come naturally. My legs are programmed to trot briskly and my arms to pump up and down like pistons, but I force myself to stroll past the stalls and pavement cafes. To enjoy just being somewhere, rather than rushing from somewhere, to somewhere. Inhaling deep lungfuls of air, instead of my usual shallow breaths. I take a moment to just stop and look around me. And smile to myself. For the first time in a long time, I can, quite literally, smell the coffee.”
– Alexandra Potter