A Glass Darkly

"It's a shame we didn't do this when Mom was still around to enjoy it," my sister said to me the other day at the beach. She was rolling the pastry for our pumpkin pie. 

I swiveled the tall stool on the other side of the counter around from my ocean view to face her. "I was just thinking of Mom, too," I said.

"Well, she's never far from thought," my sister answered, and she was right. 

I had been thinking all week of when this very same group had gathered at the beach eleven years ago for my mom's 70th. It was June and the summer was young, and so it seemed we all were. My mom was a vigorous new septuagenarian, my older nephews were in their teens, my sister's kids were 18 months and nearly 4, and this blog was just a few months into its run. Despite the years in between, my impressions then reflect our experiences now.

Seaside 

This evening our dog chased a ball through the surf, leaving crescents of ragged claw-shaped prints across a field of tiny air bubbles in the flat, wet sand. Tonight the stars fill the sky in a way that is impossible in the light-washed nights of the city where I live. What will tomorrow be like? 

Seaside 2: What We Take with Us: 

I had a beach cruiser when I lived at the beach. What a ride! It was a cool black and pink one-speed Schwinn with high, padded handle bars, a wide, soft seat, nobby tires for some traction in the sand, and flat pedals so you could ride barefoot down the boardwalk. Gosh, I loved that bike. 

 

When we moved north, I brought my beach cruiser with me, but it was totally unsuited for the roads in my new town; they were way too hilly. I had been warned that I wouldn't get a lot of use out of it in the place that I was moving, but I couldn't let it go. Eventually, I bought another bike, and the cruiser decayed away in a leaky outdoor shed. The chain rusted; the tires went flat; the cushy handlebars cracked, and squirrels chewed through the seat cover and made off with the padding for their nests. I'm embarrassed to admit that eventually it ended up in the trash on another moving day, but I was glad when someone took it before the garbage truck came. 

 

It turned out to be another tragic lesson on the difference between what we need and what we want-- my beach cruiser totally deserved better. 

 Seaside 3: I Love an Ocean 

Today my nephew and I were sitting in the surf. He's almost four and has a healthy respect for the sea; in fact, he's terrified of it, so we were way up at the waterline where the waves could just reach us. I don't usually sit at all at the beach, and I'm not one to sunbathe or nap, either. I like to swim, or beach comb, or play frisbee or catch, or build things in the sand, but sitting still, not so much. Still, there we were, the outgoing tide carving little gullies beneath our heels and butts, and looking around, I noticed that we were surrounded by hundreds of tiny little clams about the size of a baby's fingernail. They were translucent shades of white, orange or blue with the finest of stripes and subtle variations in color. When the water left them temporarily high and dry, they would each extend a teeny, nearly transparent, fleshy foot to flip themselves vertical and then disappear beneath the sand in a blink. Enchanted, I showed my nephew, and we watched them together for a while. I picked a couple up and put them in some sand in his hand, and they buried themselves there. "Isn't that cool?" I asked him. 

 

He nodded. "I love an ocean," he sighed. 

Seaside 7: Sunset Sunrise 

On the east coast, the sun does not set over the ocean. There are lovely sunrises for those who get up early enough, but for a sunset over water, you have to be on a mighty big lake or bay. Tonight, as the sunset washed the sky behind a bunch of houses and trees to our west a faded pink, we bid the first farewell of our vacation. My mom has a 6 AM flight in the morning, and so she left to stay with some friends who live closer to the airport. After yet another perfect day at the beach, some late afternoon Wii Karaoke, and a great dinner of crab cakes, homemade slaw, and salads (it pays to have high-end leftovers), there were tears-- as there always are when our family parts-- and the gray light of the dusky evening seemed to reinforce the undeniable fact that all that was left of our vacation was the packing up and getting out of the rental place by 10 AM.

Adapt or...

It's a cliche to say that the beach is relaxing, and yet, being here for Thanksgiving seemed to give permission to relax some of the Thanksgiving traditions we have had for so long. 

For one thing, we started making and eating our pies and desserts early in the week to avoid that feeling of must eat, even after one of the heaviest meals of the year. The menu for our holiday feast was streamlined, a few favorites left out or simplified in the interest of saving time and being able to enjoy the amazing weather-- 70+ degrees in November! The parade was no longer de rigueur viewing-- why watch the rain in Herald Square when the sun was shining on the ocean right outside our door? And Black Friday? Well, I almost got away without spending a cent, but the seafood market was right there as my sister and I were pedaling our beach cruisers, and shrimp tacos instead of pasta night seemed like another wise modification. 

And who knows? This is our second Thanksgiving at the beach. That in itself may be a new tradition.

Thanksgivingtide

We passed what must have been a family celebrating Thanksgiving on the beach this morning. About 18 or 20 folks, of at least three generations, some dressed up, some playing in the sand, many wearing masks, and all standing a responsible distance apart, smiled and chatted in a warm November sun. A light breeze blew off the tumbling sea, the surf still up from the storm that passed through last night. There was no turkey or dressing or cranberry sauce, but their gratitude at safely gathering in these treacherous times, and in such a beautiful place, clearly matched my own.

Oysters and Pea Crabs

It started with a conversation about dinner. "Should I get some oysters for tonight?" Emily asked. From there we discussed whether they should be raw or Rockafellered. A quick call to the seafood market revealed that oysters were only available by the pint or in the shell, and for our purposes the jar would not work. 

"Let's get an oyster knife and learn how to shuck them!" I suggested. "Wouldn't that be a fun family vacation project?" 

So Emily got the oysters, and I went to ACE Hardware to get the knife and a pair of gloves. "Of course the knife will go right through these," the guy at the store shook his head as he pointed out the gloves. "They'll give you a better grip, but it's a dangerous, dirty business to open oysters. Better to go to a raw bar."

I thanked him for his help and ignored his advice. Upon arriving home I showed the new gear to Victor. "Are you up for learning to shuck oysters?" I asked, and before too long he was doing some research on YouTube. Dinner time found the two of us in the kitchen poking and prying and twisting and popping and scraping. It wasn't long before we got the hang of it, and pretty soon we had a plate of six oysters on the half shell.

"This one has a little crab in it!" Victor said as he popped open the next one. Sure enough, a tiny round crab the size of his thumbnail feebly waved its eight legs. Treat was working on his computer at the table, and he quickly searched the creature as Victor and Emily took pictures. 

It turns out that it was a pea crab, which is a parasite that invades the oyster when they are both larva and attaches itself to the gills, eating part of the oyster's food as it filters through. The crab does not harm the oyster. "Will it harm us?" we wondered.

"You can eat them, and, listen to this," Treat read, "they were said to be one of George Washington's favorites.

We set the little crab aside and continued shucking oysters. Two more of them had crabs in them, and the three tiny crustaceans wiggled weakly as we debated what to do with them. It seemed cruel to throw them away, and even though the ocean was just steps from our door, they couldn't survive alone in the sea; it was most likely they would become some other animal's meal. I sat down for a moment and pulled out my phone to read up on these pea crabs. According to my research, they were actually a sign that the oysters were fresh and healthy. Not only edible, they were reportedly delicious either raw or fried.

With that, I got a little skillet and tossed some butter in it. When it was sizzling, I apologized to the little crabs and tossed them in. They turned from gray to a delicate pink, sort of like shrimp. A sprinkle of salt a and a squeeze of lemon later, I plated them in the center of a small fiesta ware plate and showed them to Victor, Treat, and Emily. 

Treat tasted one first. "It's really good!" he said.

Victor had the next. "It is," he agreed.

Emily let me have the last one. The tiny bite was crispy and crabby, a little like soft shell crab, and actually pretty delicious. "I can see why George Washington liked these!" I said.

Later, as I rinsed the gloves and washed the oyster knife, I thought of the guy at the hardware store and shook my head. No way any raw bar could have been better.

Teach from the Beach

Ever since we have started working from home we have been tempted to relocate temporarily and carry out our virtual duties from somewhere fun and beautiful. Today I finally got to try that model out. 

On the day before Thanksgiving Break, no teacher plans a serious lesson, and with the added complication of only teaching one of our two block days, my plan was to log on, take attendance, and direct the students to a light activity, leave the call, and enjoy the ocean view from my window. 

It didn't exactly go that way... the beach house where are staying is lacking robust wifi; so much so, that the only place I had a reliable signal was next to the router. So I scooted a tall kitchen stool over to the nearest chair in the living room, plunked my lap top onto the seat and spun it around to face me. At 7:45 in the morning, the sun rising over the ocean created a glare on the screen, so I pulled the blackout curtains, placed my iPad on my knees, held my breath, and joined the call.

And everything went just fine!  Neither the ambient conversation of my non-working family, nor the barking of four dogs impeded my instruction, (although my empathy for the kids who work in such conditions every day increased a hundredfold) and I knew at the end of every class that I?

was still at the beach.

Late Autumn Dip

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how cold would you say it is?" Annabelle asked me as I shivered in the outdoor pool at our beach house this afternoon. When we arrived, it seemed amazing that the pool was still open so late in the season, even here in the Southern Outer Banks of North Carolina. And yet? There it shimmered two stories down, deep blue and inviting, rivaled only by the wide sky and the ocean just beyond. And today was the day, nearly 70 and very sunny, that I decided to take the plunge, literally. To be fair, I was egged on by Annabelle, and the two of us stood first ankle deep in the frigid water and then up to our knees. I might have changed my mind and said no, but I did not. Punching the swimming workout on my watch, I listened to it counting down and 3-2-1 dove in. The cold water took my breath away, and even though I could easily stand, I lifted my feet and began treading water to stay warm. 

"An 8!" I answered. "Are you coming in?"

EUI

I glanced at my watch before taking it off for the night and noticed that I only needed 35 calories to close my activity ring. "I'll be back!" I told Heidi and headed for the spare room and the Bosu ball. I had enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine, but it seemed like a great idea to do a little vigorous step activity to meet my goal. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if...

Well, maybe I wouldn't have gotten away with it, because about 2 minutes in, I stepped down from the bouncy Bosu and felt my ankle roll. I heard it crackle, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. Miraculously, it was a soft landing, and although my ankle was sore, I could stand. A couple of ibuprofen and a compression brace later, I was in pajamas and off to sleep, 10 calories shy of my daily goal but feeling fortunate and a little wiser for the reminder that at my age? I need to be careful!