Reflecting on the beach
An accidental piece on Lake Texoma, the sound of waves, and learning to drive stick.
It’s finally August, and I’m finally writing another newsletter.
It’s 7 a.m. on a Monday morning, and I made a coffee, turned on the newest Marren Morris album (which is incredible, by the way), and turned my iPad sideways and connected a Bluetooth keyboard. I really had to make it as absolutely convenient as possible. Guess that’s what it takes.
There’s been so much going on that I haven’t known what to write about, what to share, or what to bring up. It is difficult in the moment to know what’s worth the effort. Even more difficult to, in real time, know if something is anything.
I suppose all of this is coming off of me having a beach day yesterday. One of those “I forgot this is what this is all for” moments. Sitting on a giant blanket in the sand, perfect weather, beautiful water, and the sounds of waves that just fix something in your brain as they crash into the shore while you read your book. I didn’t take a single photo. I felt proud about that in the moment. Of course, as soon as we packed things up and got in the car, I immediately regretted not having a single photo of the excursion. Taking any photos might have proved to be a little tricky, as half of the folks around us were topless. Much more titties than I was expecting to see on a Sunday afternoon in August. I wore more sunscreen than I typically wear (which is usually no sunscreen), and thankfully, I’m not burned today. A little red that I hope will turn into some color, but no burn.
There really is something about the sound of the waves. I didn’t grow up on any beaches, unless you count the rocky, stumpy shores of Lake Texoma: one of the largest reservoirs in the United States, with a surface area of approximately 89,000 acres. Much less exciting than Ft. Tilden beach, so many of the memories of my childhood are set at Lake Texoma. Summer breaks spent in the camper with all my brothers, tents at West Burns Run, random Jesus-y summer camps that we would wander up to and join for the week, plenty of crazy weather floods and thunderstorms.
There was an Easter spent overnight on the lake with my parents and cousins in my aunt and uncle’s very nice, very fancy camper. As the sun set, the skies darkened and turned green. The wind picked up, and the light night started. I’m not sure if my memory of this is accurate or not, but maybe there were tornado sirens, hail, and funnel clouds. I’m encouraging myself to ask my mom how she recalls the whole situation. It was one of those instances of a scary-excitement. Fun to witness, but a bit frightening if you thought about it too much (and how a tornado would lift, flip, and rip apart our campsite if it made its way). That night, we lost a really good pair of binoculars. I will never forget that part for some reason.
Lake Texoma also turns/turns over, which I do not think happens on New York City beaches. When I go back and visit home in the summer, I can still smell with the lake “turns”; the different layers of water begin to change temperatures and densities and start swapping spots. This process usually reeks and is unavoidable, but is always the first sign of warmer lake water for summer swims.
In 2007, the spillway flooded over and marked a historical moment as only the 3rd time since the lake’s completion that the water had reached such heights. I remember walking a dangerous path near the roaring waters near the spillway to get a closer look with my brothers. I took photos on a flip phone and remember showing the people at play rehearsal that week. I wish I still had these photos. Maybe Facebook has the memories.
My little brother, Cory (5 years my junior), taught me how to drive stick on the back roads near the lake one summer. That summer, Beers Ago by Toby Keith was our anthem. He just turned 28 and on his birthday sent me a photo of a radio station in his car playing that song. I couldn’t tell you why THAT song was the one we latched onto and drove into the ground that summer. I get flashbacks to that summer anytime I hear it. That was also the summer I was in a community theatre production of Chicago with an abusive a$$hole director that made great theatre but definitely spoke out of turn and said some pretty horrible things to myself and my colleagues. He recently died.
***
This was my first trip to the beach this year. Fingers crossed I get to do it again before summer ends. I feel (slightly) healed in a way that you only can from standing on a sandy beach and staring at the ocean.
Great memories. The Easter trip at the lake included sirens and campers driving to the tornado shelters at the campground which were the restrooms. We could see the funnel cloud which ended up being a tornado with each lighting flash. It missed us but high winds ripped our tents and scattered debris everywhere. But at least we got to do a night time egg hunt before the excitement.