After the Storm by Barbara Quinn

They were battening down the hatches Saturday all over Monmouth County, NJ. Tropical storm Hanna passed through the area with high winds and waves. She wasn’t anywhere near the force of what she was when she hit the states to the south of us, but she still posed a threat. In the morning, things were calm and you never would have known that a storm was on the way, other than the charge of apprehension in the air. People were on edge, not sure how bad the winds would be, how large the storm surge would be.

And so we engaged in the calming familiar routines. We removed our porch furniture, found the battery powered lantern, went out for some food and other supplies. At the fish market the customers asked “So when is it going to hit? How bad do you think we’ll get hit?” The market’s owner shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows. All I know is I was out yesterday fishing and it was like glass out there. No boats. Absolutely gorgeous.”

And he was right. The ocean was a tranquil beast yesterday, with no hint of the fury she would soon unleash. Geez. The ocean is bi-polar.

The market owner, a fisherman, told us how he had caught two Blue Marlins yesterday and how rare it was to do that. They took pictures and released them in all their shiny glory. Lucky marlins. He told us that fishermen don’t kill blue marlins, and will walk out of restaurants that have Marlin on the menu.

And so the Marlins got to jump high again, unlike the unlucky Swordfish and Tuna whose lot it is to fill our tummies. I’m grateful for all of them, and for the calming camaraderie before the storm. We’re a lot like those Marlins, hoping not to be hooked, enjoying the calm waters, fighting our way through the rough. It’s good to wake up to a sunny day and still be swimming.

Guarding Over Us All by Barbara Quinn

The lifeguards were cleaning up the beach yesterday, storing equipment, closing down for the season. Behind them, the waves were large and the riptide strong. This wasn’t a gentle end of summer surf. Soon, they were rescuing five children who were being swept out to sea. What a relief that they were present and able to help. Last summer the worst that could happen did: a child drowned while swimming in the unguarded evening surf.

Today, the ocean was still churning, roaring a clear message to proceed with caution. So even though the official beach season is over, there were guards posted at one beach for swimming, while others patrolled and prohibited swimming elsewhere. I’m grateful to the lifeguards for responding to this unusually strong surf. Being a lifeguard requires so much focus. They understand the riptides, look out for sharks, watch each head in the water, and spring to action on a moment’s notice.

When I caught a wave today, the water was rougher than usual, but not unpleasantly so, partially because the lifeguards were still there watching over us. It’s safe fun losing myself in all that power, tumbling about in the roiling water of nature’s amusement park. The wind was intense and salty, coming directly from the ocean to the shore. The surfers were out having a wonderful time. I could feel the rip current pulling straight out from the shore. My swimsuit was coated with sand because there was so much of it swirling about in the water. Wise parents kept small children close.

On days like this, with the sun beating down, and the water so warm, it’s hard to believe that the summer will ever end. But soon the sun will set earlier, the breeze will be colder. The memories will be bottled and shared in the future. I’m grateful that the families of those rescued children will be able to tell a tale about the time one endless summer when the waves were so high that they had to be rescued by the selfless guards of the beach. My thanks go out to all the guardians of the beach who risk their all. They are the guardians not only of our happy shore memories, but of our futures. Thank you!

Waves of Gratitude by Barbara Quinn

The ocean is a lovely sea foam color that invites me to jump in. No jelly fish bump my legs, no seaweed wraps around my calves. The warm misty green water with white foam on top is perfect for swimming beyond the gentle waves.

This calmness is welcome after a summer whose rip-tides have been treacherous. A few days ago, the waves were large. I timed the crashing and hurried out to beyond where they break, hoping for a swim. But as soon as I lifted my feet, I was pulled sideways. No matter how hard I swam, the ocean drew me strongly to the left. The current was taking me where it wished, and that was toward a rocky jetty. I recognized the danger, and caught a wave back to the shore where I emerged tired and breathing hard. Catching a wave in was the right thing to do.

Besides, it was a great bodysurf back to the shore. There’s a spot in a wave that is safe and glorious, a place where you can hold your head high while being carried along swiftly, the chaos and turmoil of the roiling ocean just below and behind you, the roar of the surf filling your ears. The ride is over far too quickly. That short exhilarating ride is the nature of bodysurfing and is what I reach for time after time when I go out into the waves. Bodysurfing is about accepting the nature of the wave. You don’t question or think. You feel the power and become a part of the wave. Dive forward too quickly or too late and you are left behind. You learn to lose yourself in the wave. Luckily, there’s always another wave to try to catch.

I need to go through more of life this way:accepting and not fighting, finding that sweet spot and riding it for however short a time, being grateful for the small joys, knowing that if I miss one wave, another will come along. That’s what the waves have taught me. That, and knowing when to cut my losses when there is danger in staying the course. For the knowledge that waves impart, and for those short glorious rides, I am grateful.