Surf, Sand and Xan

There is something special about taking a child to the beach; especially a child who doesn’t get to go there very often.  This is true for any of nature‘s greatest hits; dunes, high mountains, white water rapids, giant trees that remember the dinosaurs, tar pits and old oak trees. New experiences like the mile- wide maw of the Grand Canyon and the impossible cliff dwellings of Mesa Verde when seen through a child’s eyes are magnified and bursting with Technicolor. Their natural enthusiasm is contagious. It rubs the crust off us old farts and forces us to engage in the moment. You know, that moment some adults are forever struggling to stay in touch with but can’t because the stories of the past and the projections of the future take over.

I learned a bit more about all of that last week we went on vacation to the Outer Banks in NC. It was a beautiful four days of perfect weather, company and place.  Everything in-line for a good time.  Most people would say I am a fun-loving person, but in the face of wanton boyhood fired up about the beach, I fell woefully short in the fun department.  A crash course in remembering how to play was required.
It appears to me that we adults often do things by halves, taking the measured and safe approach. Kids naturally do things by wholes - exhausting an experience until it simply can’t be lived anymore.  Christmas chocolate comes to mind. And Saturday morning cartoons, video games, and swimming.  Eating cake and ice cream, candy and pizza ‘til it’s coming out of their ears.  I am amazed whenever I see a kid literally gobbling up the world with all their senses. In the moment. In the now. Living it up like nothing else mattered.  They may be onto something there.

My youngest son Xander, who is eight, lives in the moment at 130% throttle in all directions simultaneously. He loves life. He loves to try new things. Mention a new possibility and Xander is right there ready to try it with huge brown eyes full of delight and anticipation. I have been continually in awe of this fountain of enthusiasm.

And it was full blown enthusiasm as we arrived at the beach house around midnight after a pleasant five hour ride in the car. Our hosts Karen and Rick were showing us around the place, all of us laughing and happy to be there. On the very top of the house was a widow’s watch from which we enjoyed an astounding view - even at midnight.  We were all just chit-chatting up there when Xander chimed in and said to Rick -- remember he’s eight -- “For my bachelor party we’re goin’ shrimpin!”
And Rick said, “What?” like he wasn’t sure he was hearing right.
“For my bachelor party we’re goin’ shrimpin!” Xan repeated. He’s used to this. Adults often miss his leaps of thought.
Rick said, “Shrimpin’?” just to confirm.
“Yeah.”
There was a short pause as Rick took this in and then said, teasing. “You can’t go shrimpin’.  You’re supposed to have strippers.”
Whereby Xan considers a moment and declares “Okay, great! Shrimpin’ and strippers!”

We laughed our butts off.  After we picked ourselves up off the floor, dried our eyes and massaged the cramps out of our sides. We went about the business of making the house our home for the next few days. But the tone had been set by Xan, we were doing it all -- and the more the merrier. We probably wouldn’t be shrimpin’ nor would we be calling up any of the local hotties to come and disrobe for folded dollar bills, but we would be living large and taking it all in. No holds barred.  If we missed out on the good times, we would have to answer to Xan.

I set my compass by him. We went for walks on the beach in the early morning light searching for conch shells and other ocean treasures as might be tossed in front of us. We gathered shells by the armful. Each one a more perfect and divine expression of the beauty of that moment. Delight ruled the day. We skipped in the surf and sang silly songs that we made up on the spur of the moment.  We laughed aloud at the notion of Bob the Boogie-boarding Box Turtle from Buckingham. (Bob was a box turtle that had come to live with us for a few days and upon his release has become extraordinarily ubiquitous. The frequency  of Bob appearances led me to believe that turtles can bi-locate or at least have access to frequent flyer plans-- for every box turtle we’ve seen is surely Bob.)

Xan loved the crabs on the beach.  It astonished me that an eight-year old would be willing to go after these creatures. They were a bit disconcerting at first-- darting sideways, magically appearing out of shallow shadows and unlikely looking holes in the dunes and demonstrating a very impressive display of prickly ire. But Xanny figured out a way to play with them, his love for the whole experience overcame even the nature of those little crabs. He dug them out of their hidey holes with a shovel and then he would throw some sand over them so they wouldn’t scrabble away. This allowed him to scoop them up and tote them around. And so he whistled and hummed around the beach dragging his crab-laden shovel behind him. Every now and then, he would stop and dump the crab off the shovel so they could play for a bit. This usually resulted in the crab getting crabbier and Xan getting more delighted. He built them condos. He built them slides. He dragged them over to the blanket where I could take their portrait with the camera.  I am pretty sure I heard one of them cursing the fact that the season had started and “those darned kids are back again.” I winked at the crab sending lots of good vibes his way. It’s difficult being a tourist attraction.

Xander rode wave after wave into the surf on his boogie board and it didn’t even matter if he got tossed by the ocean or if he sailed smoothly onto the shore, he was ear to ear grins the whole time. He had raw patches on his belly, arms and toes from the sand and shells, but he didn’t notice. And didn’t even care when I asked him if it hurt at all. “Nah.” he told me and then jumped back on the board with a loud “Whoop!” I laughed and smiled indulgently as he launched himself into the roiling waters. He was an otter.

One evening he and I walked back to the house from the beach (the others had gone ahead)  with sandy toes and hungry from the vibrant air, Xan exclaimed with great disgust,  “Just look at all these cigarette butts! I think the President should make a law that they can’t make anymore cigarettes because obviously no one knows how to dispose of them properly!”  Before I could even formulate a response to this astute observation, he continued “And look at the litter along the road! Who would want to throw their trash on such beautiful land. This is really beautiful land and they just don’t see it!”

I found myself in the position of having to explain the sad and unconscious behavior of adults who really ought to know better.

I settled. “No baby, it makes no sense. Some people are just crazy.”

A few more steps in silence before another Xan leap.
“We gotta move here, Mom.  So I can go to the beach everyday after school.” He paused in thought for a bit and then asked in all earnestness, “They do have schools here, don’t they?”

I was blown away even more when he declared that he would get a job to further this mission.  I asked him what kind of job he thought he might like…“Shrimpin!“  Of course! At least he had given up the idea of strippers!

We were all having fun but for him it was different. I could see that the ocean was awakening some deeper calling in his heart.  I don’t know about moving to the beach actually, but I think we’ll be planning a few more regular trips. Some things simply need to be accommodated.  Besides, I think that crab may be waiting for us.

Love, laugh, learn, live.  That’s the lesson.  That, and remember to rinse the sand out of your suit before going on a long walk.