ARE YOU A DAUGHTER or a son of a beach? As a kid, I spent my summers on Fire Island. I loved the sounds of the ocean and the breaking waves. I loved the smell of the sand and water. I loved seeing all those folks out there having a good time and yes, I even loved the omni-present smell of sun tan lotion. Once into adolescence, I loved the bikinis that were on display. I loved “riding the waves” on my rubber raft. With all that said, you might think I am a committed beach person but alas, that is not the case. In fact, while I love several mile walks on the beach, I have come to have real questions about the sand and sea.
First of all, I read everything I can about the coronavirus and the more I read, the more frightened I get. There is so much to worry about that every time I think I have a handle on what this virus is, I find out about something new that can destroy you. As a 78-year-old, I know that a single false move—that’s right, I said a single false move—and I’ll be a goner. So when I turn on the TV and see crowds of people congregating on beaches and acting as though they haven’t got a care in the world, in the middle of a global pandemic, I get, well, concerned, both for them and for me. We know, don’t we, that crowds are killers. I love the guy who runs my local movie theater but you had better believe that it will be a long time before you find me there. But beaches? Are you crazy?
It doesn’t stop there, of course. Every time I hear about a shark attack, I wonder why anyone would chance a dip in the surf. Read more…