Beach Please! If Gratitude Had Two Feet

One of my daily gratitudes is to the universe for keeping me mobile and for the health and resources that let me explore this world on my own two feet.

Let’s see, where exactly have these feet gone so far? Cities, villages, parks, paddy and sunflower fields, deserts, mountains, and of course, bathrooms. Just kidding.

OK, the one place my heart longs to go back to is the beach, the endless ocean, and the tiniest speck of sand under my feet. All we need to know about nature is right here in front of our eyes at any beach.

One of my fondest beach memories is the time we went to the spectacular white sandy beaches of Destin, Florida. Our older one, who was then five, had broken his arm playing in our neighbor’s yard just before our trip. He played so much on the beach that when the cast was removed days later, his fingers looked like they had been dipped in chocolate.

I recently went to Myrtle beach, South Carolina. On our way there, we stopped at a Mc Donald’s. I met two men who told me they were on hard times. One was a Tupac fan like me and the other had been stabbed in the face and had lost his phone in the fight.

In the beach town, I would walk our dog Yogi every morning up and down the street that we were staying at. If 80 degrees in the mid mornings was this hot, how were my family and colleagues surviving the blistering 120 degree heat back in India I would wonder.

One day, we spotted a dog off its leash while a 10 year old chased behind it as they went from yard to yard. Yogi stood in rapt attention as the loose dog sprinted past us, as if he was ready to help the situation at a moment’s notice.

We would pass mobile home parks and rental homes where owners were preparing their houses and yards for the summer crowds. Men, most likely maintenance staff from around town, drove by in golf carts and tipped their hats in friendly greeting. Sun-kissed women would drive by right behind them, likely headed for their afternoon siestas after a morning at the beach.

In the evenings, we strolled the promenade from First Street to Fourteenth, where a giant Ferris wheel turned against the sky alongside other bungee-jumping attractions.

Karaoke singers lined up on a small stage waiting their turn as we sat down to soak in the evening. A sweet young woman sang “Should’ve Been a Cowboy” in perfect pitch. I don’t know much about country music, but the lyrics go something like, “I should’ve been a cowboy, I should’ve learned to rope and ride.” A little earlier when I Was walking on the sand by myself, my ears were jamming to Brodha V, the Canadian-Indian rapper, and his hip-hop version of “Aigiri Nandini.”

I always love the simplicity of the American approach to a beach vacation that feels straightforward and without frills. Get up to see the sunrise, or not. Relax on the beach while your five kids swim and build sand castles all day. Eat some funnel cake on the boardwalk at 4 pm. Get home and celebrate the day with pizza and beer for dinner, and if its soccer season, cheer loudly for your favorite team in the living room.

Beach or not, the Indian maximalist in me needs lentils and rice for most meals around my kitchen counter. And if I’m staying at a beach town, I will make special accomodations to rush to the beach just an hour before the “golden hour” so I can get the best pictures of the sunset. Is life only for the (Insta)gram? In the middle of it all, I once vehemently tweeted in defense of the Atlanta metro.

Well, America is where everyone can be whoever they want to be, so it’s all good.

I’m back to the daily routine now. But I was thinking about this. The last time I went to the beach before this was in Tampa two summers ago. One evening there, I picked up trash on the beach, and others joined me in collecting shocking amounts of plastic and debris from the sand.

Myrtle Beach, by contrast, was remarkably clean. One America, different beaches, different attitudes toward nature and community.

To the sun I met at dusk and dawn, and to my feet that took me there, I will be back with more gratitude. I will return to see as far as the eye can see across the endless ocean and feel the wind in my hair. 

Until next time. 

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The Indian American Life