10/1/1999 through 10/3/99

Reading: This weekend I finished Speaker for the Dead, which I liked very much, though not as much as Ender's Game. I started Bag of Bones by Stephen King for an online book group.

Postcards from the Shore

We are back after a wonderful, though tiring, weekend at the beach. I started writing a detailed description of the trip, but I found myself not at all interested in continuing it. And if I'm not interested in writing that kind of entry, I'm certain that you would not be interested in reading it.

So instead, I'll share a few vignettes with you, the things I want to remember about our trip. Consider them verbal postcards from me to you.

Friday morning. Smithville, New Jersey. We've stopped here on our way to Avalon, and the boys are feeding the ducks and geese that crowd the little pond. Matthew screeches with fear when one of the more aggressive geese approaches looking for a handout. I lift him up onto the bench in the gazebo which overlooks the pond.

"Here, throw the corn over there and the goose will follow it," I tell Matthew. He hurls the kernels in the direction I've indicated.

"He's going away, Mama!" Matthew exclaims, his fear gone.

Friday afternoon. The beach at Avalon. It's cool and breezy today, and I couldn't bring myself to go more than hip deep in the water. I'm sitting on the beach chair now, covered with towels against the chill. Mom, Jake, and Daniel are taking a walk north along the shore line: they have dwindled into doll-sized figures. I can't tell if they are still walking away or if they are returning.

Stephen is digging in the sand not far from my chair. Matthew is closer to the water's edge. He takes his bucket and runs forward to catch some water in it, then dashes back. With his long, skinny bird legs he looks like a little sand piper.

I pick up my book to read, then let it fall back into my lap. I'd rather watch the boats on the horizon, the waves breaking, and my boys at play.

Saturday morning. Jackson Street, Cape May. We're here at the town's annual Oktoberfest, looking at the craft tables and listening to the oom-pah sounds of a band playing German music. The band is situated on the porch of one of Cape May's grand Victorian mansions. I scan the musicians from left to right, ending with the drum player, who I suddenly realize is someone I know: Daniel's pre-K teacher, Miss Terry.

"Miss Terry, Miss Terry!" the boys call out to her. She smiles and nods at us, and we wave back. How funny to see someone out of context in an unfamiliar place. Who knew Miss Terry had a double life?

Saturday afternoon. Sunset Beach, Cape May. We wanted Mom and Jake to see this pebble-strewn beach where you can watch the sun set over Delaware Bay and search for Cape May diamonds. We won't be able to come back at sunset tonight, so we settled for early afternoon. The boys are filling their pockets with stones, running to the water's edge, and throwing them in.

Tab is busily taking video and stills of the hundreds of monarch butterflies that are flying past us on their southward migration. Since we arrived down here yesterday afternoon, we've probably seen thousands of monarchs all flying purposefully south. We've never seen anything like it before.

Saturday evening. Boardwalk at Wildwood. I am disappointed by this boardwalk. The boardwalk I remember at Seaside was near the ocean, but here the ocean is almost too far away to see in the dark. I also prefer the benches at Seaside, the backs of which can be moved so that you can sit either facing the boardwalk traffic or facing the ocean.

Wildwood is a sleazy, somewhat dirty place, but the boys are bewitched by the bright lights, the noise, and the excitement. They don't see the grime and the strange, slightly scary-looking, people.

This weekend Wildwood is hosting a monster truck convention. "Monsters on the Beach" read the commemorative T-shirts for sale. Loud motors roar from behind the bleachers down on the beach. Megasaurus, a car-crushing transformer, is belching fire and eating a two-door Chevy, to the great delight of the crowd. And of our boys, who are enthralled by the spectacle, as we watch from a distance.

A trip to the boardwalk would not be complete without frozen custard. Anyone who thinks that frozen custard is just another name for soft ice cream has never tried the real thing.

Sunday afternoon, Cape May Zoo, Cape May. Mom and Jake are well on their way back to Maine now, having left after breakfast. We'll be leaving later in the day after cleaning up the beach house, but now we're enjoying some time at one of the area's attractions, the Zoo. This place is deceptive; I thought it was just a small zoo, but we've been here for several hours already. I like the African Savanna exhibit, which is a long walkway through the woods to an open meadow where giraffes and zebras graze.

So far, Tab's favorite part of the zoo trip was when Matthew asked to ride on his shoulders. Matthew is usually hesitant to accept a ride on Tab's shoulders so we were both surprised when Matthew asked. Stephen is sulking now because he is jealous, but Matthew is grinning down happily at me.

Sunday evening, on our return home. Before we even crossed the causeway to the mainland, Daniel and Stephen were asleep. Matthew followed them fifteen minutes later. We're driving into the twilight, racing the setting sun and losing. We are tired and sore from all the walking we did at the zoo, and Tab is especially tired since he laundered all the sheets and vacuumed the house before we left. We talk about our trip, quietly so as not to wake the boys.

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