On The Beach

A flock of Laughing Gull (Larus atricilla) surrounded us at the Talbot Island State Park beach as Patricia tossed them bread scraps. That, of course, reminded us all of a funny/horrible incident:

Once when Patricia was 13 or 14 she encountered a poor family on her way home from school. Neither Ginny nor I were home at the time so Patricia decided to make up a food basket from canned goods and food from our kitchen. She packed a couple of grocery bags with cans of Spam, tuna, beans, powdered milk, etc. Also in her food basked for the poor, she placed a loaf of bread from the freezer..

Now for ages, Ginny has saved all bread scraps from family meals (crusts, moldy slices, half-eaten toast, broken cookie crumbs, etc) so that when we go to a park we’d have something to feed the ducks, pigeons or gulls or whatever. It was her custom to store these in an old bread wrapper in the freezer until she accumulated a bagful. Also, she’d buy several loafs of real fresh bread at a time and freeze it till she was ready to use it.

You guessed it.

Patricia inadvertently gave the poor, starving family the duck food in the bread wrapper when she carried her two food packets to their house.

It wasn’t till Ginny got home that evening that the error was discovered!

Ever since then the whole family has teased Patricia about being cruel to poor starving wretches by making them eat duck food.

Today was no exception. As Patricia tossed bread crusts to the gulls, we all teased her about needing to save those scraps to feed the poor.

Today the eight of us walked for miles along the beach gathering treasures of shell, feathers, drift wood to show eachother. We picked a poor day to go the seashore; it was really too windy and chilly – I was disappointed not to see a single bikini on the beach. Nevertheless, we persevered and walked beaches in both the Talbot Island parks.

We discovered a nest on Big Talbot – no, not a bird nest, but a lean-to shelter patched together by some homeless man in the woods. In the past, when we were more active in helping the homeless, we’ve run across many such nests, usually just a simple sheet of plastic on the ground. But this one was more elaborate made by propping sheets of plywood and driftwood planks around the forks of a fallen tree to make a hidden dwelling – not permanent but at least long term.

(Long story, but sometime I’ll have to write about the time Johnny brought Norman, a nest-dweller too crazy to be inside a building, home to live at our house—all my children are NUTS!!!)

When the eight of us rested at two picnic tables, Ginny broke out cokes and snacks; and Patricia, a vegetarian, broke out a pack of green soy beans to share. Of course, the way we shared the beans was to play seagull and for everyone to try to toss beans for Jennifer at the other table to catch in her mouth. Eve proved NBA Champion by scoring two consecutive baskets down Jennifer’s cleavage!

Then we all howled and laughed like idiots as Jennifer, who only has the use of one arm, .tried to dig beans out of her bra.

Johnny remarked, “Some people come to Florida on vacation and spend hundreds of dollars at Disney World without laughing as much as we do just tossing beans at my sister”.

After our trek on the beach, Donald led us all across the Mayport Ferry to a seafood restaurant he knew about, Captain Singleton’s Seafood Shack & Model Ship Museum. We gorged on shrimp, clams, oysters, fish, scallops and whathaveyou. Then browsed in the museum. The models delighted me. When my sight was better I dabbled at building ship models but nothing on the scale of these.

After supper the girls fed a herd of cats that infest the restaurant parking lot. Then we walked a block to see Mayport’s historic lighthouse and watch the moon rise over the ocean. Then drove home exhausted…

I feel hesitant, reluctant to mention this next thing. It’s almost as though I’m transgressing…

All my life the sight of the island salt marshes has touched a cord in my heart. The stretches of sawgrass cut by tidal runs and dotted by distant hammocks of gnarled trees generate a haunted feeling in my soul. I feel a yearning, a longing, a good fear – like when you see a person in the distance and you think it might be Someone you love but you’re not sure.

When I look closer, yes I can see that the marsh is mud and weeds and dead shells and bird droppings… Yet, Something is there. Some Presence. Some yearned-for-Someone. I gaze at the marsh and think there’s Someone behind me and I almost expect to feel a nail-scared hand come to rest on my shoulder.

Pipe dreams?

Maybe.

My brain knows that theologically God is omnipresent, He is in all places at all times. Where could He not be? In Him we live and move and have our very being…

Yet, when I see what I know is a swamp --, I think I’m reminded of Home … a Home I’ve never been to – yet.