Life’s a Beach

There are three stages to life. They relate to how we react when we arrive at the beach for a weekend outing.

In our youngest stage, we leap out of the car and imeadiately run into the surf and play in the sand.

In our middle stage we don’t get out onto the beach until late Saturday or possibly even Sunday morning. That’s because eating, napping, and shopping come first.

In our last stage we never make it to the beach but are satisfied by watching the waves crash onto shore from our hotel window.

I realized this weekend after a visit to Cannon Beach in Oregon that I am already in the middle stage. Sure there was the excuse that the tide was high and if I had frolicked on the beach the moment I got there I might have been swept out to sea and never seen again. But that really was an excuse. The comfy hotel bed was calling my name and it won.

And yet after realizing that I am in the middle stage I have come to the conclusion that I just don’t mind. I hope I won’t mind the third stage either.

Actually in Oregon going to the beach is called going to the coast. Because most of our coast is beach and we have many choices of what beach to go to. In Minnesota going to the beach is called going to the lake. In Chicago it’s going to the beach, there’s only one but you wouldn’t want to spend an entire weekend there. One would be afraid that ones nose would fall off after a while from the joyous aroma of rotting fish. In Iowa it’s called going to the back yard and sitting in the plastic kiddie pool.

I have not conducted enough research to know if the three stages of life apply in Iowa. Watching the ripples lap against the sides of kiddie pool from ones window just can’t be fun at any age.

There is another injustice in the life as it relates to beaches. When we are young we can’t afford to stay at nice resorts at the coast. When we can finally afford it we don’t have the energy to spend all day running and jumping over the waves. That’s why the resorts have introduced big meals, wine tasting, (it’s not wine tasting you know, it’s just an excuse to sit and drink lots of wine) and bon fires. The bon fires are on the beach, barely, but right next to the stairs back to the resort so we don’t actually have to get any exercise getting to the fire. And now some resorts have combined all three. One can sit by the bon fire, and have lot’s of food and gallons of wine delivered directly to you.

On this last trip my wife and I went to the coast with another married couple. We shared a wonderful suite with an ocean side view, whirl pool, free mini bar, and all the ammenities. On Saturday night there was a knock on the door and a staff member from the resort asked me if I wanted our beds turned down. I didn’t think we were snooty enough for that so I said no. A short time later the four of us left our room to head for dinner. Our friends saw staff people in the hallway and asked them to be sure to turn our beds down. I laughed out loud and explained that I had just sent them away a few minutes earlier. Our friends looked shocked and told me that having ones bed turned down, at least at this resort, was a must. I thought to myself, I can’t be friends with hoity-toity snoots! I must have looked stunned because they told me that if one doesn’t get the bed turned down you don’t get the chocolates that go with it.

OH!!! Chocolate! Well then by all means, turn down my bed, heck turn it down twice if there is chocolate involved.

With any luck I will never reach a stage of life where I turn down free chocolate.