One day, I will have a beach house.

I am blessed to live in south AL which is next to North FL. The beach we usually go to is Panama City Beach.
which is about 80 miles away.Then there is Destin, a little more upscale, but equally as beautiful. I swear, when I cross the state line from AL to FL, I can begin to feel the pull of the beach. Even the dirt looks different…there is sand mixed into it–stretching the shore of the great ocean as far as possible.

This is my great desire. I want to lay my head down for as long as I choose in my own beach house. I do
not want to stay in a motel and have to check out by noon. I do not want to pack my clothes in a suitcase
to take home. I want to wait until I’m good and ready to leave. I want a place to leave my clothes, so
when I come back, my softest shorts and loosest top and my old flip-flops are there and waiting for
me–like old friends.

It seems easier to make plans and talk of the future when we are staring at a far horizon with endless
waves in front of it. Tomorrow seems very far away. It is easier to talk of insignificant things. They
can just fly away on the wind, if need be. It is easier to just be together without saying a word–both
listening to the roar of the waves and the calling of the gulls…..minds full of things to say…..but
not wanting to stop the concert going on around us.

It’s alot about the water which surrounds you wherever you may find yourself. It’s not at all like a dip in the
pool…which starts and ends…you get in and you get out and you walk away, without so much as a
thought, until you want to dive in again. But, the ocean is different…it surrounds you with itself.
Through the windows of the shops and the balconies of the hotels, or the open-air decks of the
restaurants, the ocean glistens in the distance. You can’t escape if you are anywhere near. As you drive,
and if you need to look at a map, there is a curved piece of white land and then lots of
blue to indicate where the land stops and the ocean begins.. i like to be just that close to the blue.
I can breathe here…and think. But, not just think–think through. Is it the cool wind that blows
that clears my mind? Or does the sun just bake my cares away? Mystery, that.

There is the sand. Most beaches do not have this kind of sand. Not even on my beloved Maui. The sand
there is more akin to dirt…brownish dirt…with sticks in it. But, here in Florida, along the Emerald
Coast, it’s different. Here the sand is white, and its texture is like fine sugar. It is so soft and
flies on the breeze like a powder. It is soft…and squishy to walk on…until it gets wet…then it is
rock hard. You can walk and walk and walk on this wet sand as you stroll near the breaking waves. Piers
and hotels and sandcastles fade from view as you walk. And when you stop…you can’t believe how
far you’ve traveled. When you return and take a shower for the day…you will notice how soft and smooth
your feet are. Great exfoliator, this sand!

It will not matter what kind of place I can find. The outside may look forlorn and the furniture may be a
little shabby. (That’s chic, you know). The floor boards may creak and the walls may be in need of paint.
Matters not. For the show is outside. Inside is the place that holds your belongings…of which you
need little. Inside holds a bed for sleeping. But, it’s outside where the beach ‘happens’. Outside is where
the beauty is.  Outside is where the air is full of salt and spray. Outside is where the Creator sketches
and paints another masterpiece in the sky each evening. Each is more beautiful than the last. Outside is
where the breeze is like no other. For this wind comes from far away places…far across the sea…far
beyond the horizon. And, whispered into this wind are the dreams and hopes and wishes and prayers that
are made by millions just like me. And, they are blown first to this shore and then to that. Listen!
You can almost hear them! Feel free to add your own…it never fills up.

My little cottage…oh, how I’ll fix that little place up! I’ll bring in driftwood and shells…lots of shells. And, the ones that have little holes in them will be strung to make huge mobiles that I’ll hang from the ceilings. Maybe I’ll find some of those colored glass balls that wash ashore at times. And, there will be art. Beautiful pictures taken of beaches around the world…some made by me. Because, surely this feeling I feel is felt by women elsewhere. This wanting a place to escape to…a place of clean air and cool sand and the sound of waves…it has to be a universal desire…there are beaches and oceans and people the world over. Surely they are all dreamt over.

This sea is vast….and this wind goes on forever. And, this sunshine bakes it all to just the right doneness
so it is perfection for whomever comes to walk its sandy shore and wet their toes in the waves as they lap
at the shore. The sea….it is miraculous!

Oh, don’t be sad, sweet Maui. You own my soul. You are the place I am the most alive. My love for you
is still true…even if your sand is not the best. But, let’s be honest here. Even dreams need to have
a little dose of reality. The chances of my ever living on YOUR shores are very, very slim. I do not
ever think it could happen. But, it could be possible for me to have a shanty in FL. Not likely…but
closer to reality. So, I’ll dream in possibilities and promise to visit you, sweet Maui, as often as is
possible.

One day, I will have a beach house…and I shall be content.

Oh, yes it was.  And, memories I had not thought of in many years, came flooding back.  Good memories…but not the kind I ever want to go back to.  But, sweet nonetheless. Last evening, we had the pleasure of hosting Don’s roommate, Garry, and his friend, Susan at our home for a lovely dinner and a nice, long visit.  Even though Don and Garry have kept up with each other through the years, I had not seen him long enough to visit in a long, long time.   Don and I do not talk much about those days anymore, but Don, Garry and I were all in college in Birmingham, they lived off campus and me, on campus.     This was a Baptist College in the early and mid 1970’s.  Strict, chauvinistic, typical.  Only boys could live off campus and only after their freshman year…girls had a 10:00 curfew during the week, Friday -11:oo, and Saturday- 11:30.  This was written in the cornerstone of the buildings and was the law.  Bad news if you were late.  The doors to the main door of the dorm were locked at curfew.  If you were late , this is the  ordeal you had to endure to get back into YOUR own dorm room which YOUR parent’s spent THEIR hard earned money for…

First, you had to stop by the little pretend police stations at the front gates of the campus…. they had big gates that were locked there, as well, at curfew and there were 2 little huts built onto the ends of the gates where the  sentinels sat.  There you had to give them your name and your life’s history and then they would call the dorm  keeper to see if you were actually still out.  (You were standing there right in front of them, but obviously they had been taught that you could possibly be a figment of their imagination, a ghostly sort of apparition of yourself who would try to trick them at odd hours of the night.)

If the dorm warden discovered you were indeed not in your tiny little twin bed in your tiny little room designed to hold one bed, but unfortunately holding 3!……then the bouncers at the front gates would ESCORT you and your unfortunate date to your dorm……..

……..The dorm defender of female virtue would be waiting at the bottom of the stairs (usually in pajamas and robe) and you had to go in – BY YOURSELF- and be interrogated.  All the time she would be busy making notes to put in the mail to your parents the next morning.  Your date was left in the control of the gate guardian and what happened next was never spoken of .  But, I heard it included getting points taken off of some kind of important records.  The rest was probably too hideous to mention.  If, however, your date had the good fortunate to NOT be a student at the same university…he just gave a jaunty wave to the gate watchers,  and drove on his merry way…living to date again.  You could be sure, however, that he never bothered to date a girl from the GATED COMMUNITY UNIVERSITY……FOR THE SAKE OF JOURNALISTIC FAIRNESS…..These accounts are mostly HERESAY …not first-hand information.

…….If you went home for the weekend…you had to let the dorm  mistress know…and  if, perchance, you happened to head for home immediately after your last class on Friday and forget to go by and sign out….well, kiss some more points goodbye..and you would forever be known as ‘that girl who forgot to sign out for the weekend and sent her dorm granny into a tizzy’!   You’d also better be back by check in time on Sunday afternoon, or the whole dorm would explode!  They would call and see when you left home and when you should have arrived and made notations of the differences in the two.  You could just forget stopping at the big mall in Montgomery and shopping a little.  Points!  Gotta keep those points!

I was very conscious of ‘the rules’ and did my best to follow them exactly.  But, some girls just wanted to live a life of danger and excitement.  Why, I heard some of the girls had even found a way of escaping all that gate nonsense and would just sneak back in the dorm through a conveniently unlocked window…left so by an accomplice on the inside!  Can you imagine?  I never knew any of these girls personally, you understand.  I belonged to the GIRL’S OBEYING AND LIVING WITHIN THE GUIDELINES SET DOWN BY THE UNIVERSITY CLUB.   And, I still do not understand why I found several points had been taken off my records at the end of every year! But I digress……. Don and Garry were roommates…but more than that, they were friends.  I suppose they would have to be to put up with each other.  They were as opposite looking as possible.  Don-tall, very thin and dark complexion…Garry-short, blond hair and fair complexion.  Yes they did make a striking sight walking across campus!

And, oh, my!  OH, MY! the place they lived was unreal.  It was in the basement of a widow woman’s home.  Not a renovated basement.  Just a basement.  Not insulated, a concrete floor, and, as I remember, there weren’t walls in places.  There was just barely a bathroom.  It was cold.  It was damp.  It was dirty, just by virtue of the fact that it was a basement…and not a basement that was intended to be inhabited by humans!  I went there once or twice, and we were all in school for 4 years.  Once or twice was enough.

Do you know what a mole cricket is?  I quote…………………”They are big, awful looking (to a girl) insects about 2 inches long, with large beady eyes and shovel-like forelimbs highly developed for burrowing and swimming.  They can also FLY!!! They are active most of the year.  They are also omnivores, feeding on larvae, worms, roots, and grasses.  They are nocturnal, and spend nearly all their lives underground in extensive tunnel systems ”  Wikipedia…(pink words and exclamations are mine)……………………..  That’s what they are supposed to do.  The time or two I was there, I saw them. Yes, I did.  FLYING, they were!  But, the thing that struck terror into my heart was hearing Garry and Don talk about how when they would turn the light off, and it would get quiet…you could hear them crunching and eating and crawling and digging all night!  Does that send shivers down your spine?  That is like a horror movie to me.  I had forgotten about those things until they reminded me again Saturday night.

Garry and his girlfriend, Vickie, and Don and I had some fun and veeeeeery interesting times.  It was all we girls could do to go to school and keep our eyes on them.  Sometimes they would tend to veer off the straight and narrow.  But, we would drag them back on, and wait for the next time…wondering all the time if we should maybe just run for our lives!  Eventually Vickie and Garry married and moved into a cute little duplex in Mountain Brook…the kind of place that nice boys live in…NO mole crickets!    Don moved into a nicer place…but it was still in a basement.  And , then Don and I married.  And, we did NOT live in a basement!  We all finished school, and they moved to Montgomery, which was Garry’s home, and we moved back home to Dothan.  Lots of things have changed for them both, but they have maintained their friendship through the years.  We would visit back and forth since we were just 100 miles away, but life gets busy and kids come along and we drifted apart, but Don and Garry have still talked all along.  I found a cute picture of our Adam and Garry and Vickie’s 3 children, Ashley, Alyssa and Amy when they came to visit us once.  This must have been around 1980-ish.

We talked of many things, as we visited, and remembered more things as we talked.  I think that when you live an important part of your life with a friend…you are forever joined.  The memories of the experiences and the memories of the friendship become one in the same.  You can not think of one without thinking of the other.  New situations and life experiences are not nearly so intimidating when shared with a friend.  And, growing through situations tends to bind you together.  And, makes a boy into a man.

Found a lot of pics from ‘way back’ at Southside Baptist Church.  I have tried to add the names of those I remember.  If I’m wrong or you know the ones I don’t, please add in comments.  These children were filled with fun and smarts and play and potential.  And, most all are fulfilling that potential.  Two are living with Jesus now, and at least one is disabled and homebound.  Some are building careers, some are involved in church work, leading other young people, some are married with children of their own.  These new parents want for their little ones the same thing we parents wanted for them…health, happiness, love.   I pray that they always remember the foundation for life starts in God’s word, and raise their children as they were…learning to live their lives following God’s rules.

This is just a few that I ran across…I have sooooo many more…..somewhere !  Hope you enjoy!

Clarke………Joy, Eloise. Russ, Alex

This picture was made at a Western- themed banquet at SBC.  Phyllis Walker, Mrs. Spinks, Tonja Townsend….the yound man in background is Durwood Skipper.

A beach youth trip while I was Interim Youth Director…

Heather…….Hannah, Karen, Leigh, Leanne…………………..Justin, Adam, Keith, Tyler, Ian

Joseph, Rebekah, Seth………

These girls were at my house for a mission study…around 1979-80…Stephanie, Suzanne, Michelle, Beth,     Adam and Mom

A few weeks ago, I posted on my blog and FB about a wonderful birthday party I had for a sweet young girl here at The Creekhouse Pool.  My sweet friend, Juliann, whom I do not get to see very often anymore, posted that it would be fun to have a party here to celebrate her retirement.  She has been a teacher for about 100 years….not really, cause we are the same age, but she taught all of our friends children and mine and then she moved over to teach in GA. for awhile.  She is just a born teacher.    So, we settled on a date and decided to invite some of our friends from ‘way back’.  You know that term- ‘way back’?  We were all young girls…newly married and newly parents and newly working…and we bonded in church together at Southside.  We went to Sunday School together and we taught choirs together and we eventually taught Sunday School,and Bible Drills and Missions and choirs.  And, everyone’s children became our children.  We watched them grow and struggle.  Some headed straight, some took the wrong path, but eventually, they all remembered their ‘training’ and got in line.  When one was struggling in school, we all gave our opinions.  Some of our friends were actually the other children’s teachers.  Which made for a hard year for the kids…they could get away with nothing.  And eventually, they graduated and we celebrated with each Mom as they graduated from college!

And so, those of us who were able to make it, gathered at my house and had a wonderful time catching up on each other’s news and things that had transpired.  We talked of children (they would hate to be called that now) who are engaged to marry, and those who have just married.  We talked of grandchildren and how different things are now than when we were raising our own.  We talked of friends of friends and those we had lost touch with.  We talked of parents and those who are no longer with us.  We remembered old days at church and at school with our children.  All but 2 of the group have been in the education field and 3 of us have retired.

We ate yummy food…compliments mostly of Juliann (in white shirt, above)…I just did the fruit and drinks…she did all the rest. We laughed and laughed and talked some more about grandchildren…Shea had great pics on her phone…and the rest of us showed our pics, too.  We talked of spouses and anniversaries.  Three of us will have 40 years invested in matrimony next year!!!  In just this little group, we have children who are bankers, and doctors, and artists, and photographers, and film work, school teachers, and merchants and ministers, and accounting, and computer programming managers and missionaries, and some others I’m not exactly sure of…but I’m sure it is of great importance.  Some are still in school and others will be starting back to school soon for new careers.  Wow!  Are we blessed or what?

We sat through a rain shower and didn’t even know it until we went outside to look at the pool.  That’s hard talking, y’all.  Jan had to leave before we got a group picture…

Shea….Pamela….Tonja….Juliann…..Cindy…..Tina…..and Jan (not pictured)

It was a wonderful afternoon…just catching up.  Isn’t it wonderful the way we are with ‘real girlfriends’?  Not those we were just aquainted with.  The things that were funny once, still are.  And, the things you share through the years have built a bond that time can’t disturb.  Hard times, deaths, serious illness, heartaches, all seem so much the easier when shared with someone who cares…really cares…about the outcome.  These are some of the friends who tell the stories of my life….they watched me struggle….they watched me stumble….they helped me stand again.  As, I have for them.  And the uniting comes from this place…the love of God, which ties us together and joins our hearts in friendship…for keeps!

This is the day, 79 years ago, that my Mom was born.  She was born and lived in North Carolina until she married Pop and moved to Alabama.  And here she stayed until she moved to her heavenly home.

I think of her so often, and I know many others do also.  When you speak of her to me, it is as if I am seeing her again through your eyes.  When I hear you say that you remember her kindness, or her dedication to her church and missions, or when you tell me of special notes she wrote to you…it reminds me again of how blessed I was to call her Mom.  She loved to pick out special gifts for others, and I could not even begin to tell you how many of her most delicious pound cakes she made to give to friends she loved.

I have written of her often on this blog, and you have so kindly read and commented accordingly.  But, I  have nothing new to add today.  I’ve probably said all there is to say several times over…(I have a tendency to do this more and more the older I get).  That’s OK…I’m just ‘taking after’ her…she did it, too.  🙂

In my files of things I like, I have this poem.  I am sorry that I do not know who to attribute it to.  But, whomever it was who wrote it, did an excellent job.  My Mom lived her dash well.  And, I am grateful to have been there to see so much of it.  And, I am grateful that my children and Joy’s children were there to see how she lived it as well.  As I have said before…she was a wonderful example and we were blessed to live in her heart…as she lives on in ours.

HOW YOU LIVE YOUR DASH

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend

He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came her date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,

But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years. 

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth…
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;
The cars…the house…the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard…
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real,
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile.
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy’s being read
With your life’s actions to rehash…
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?