Ocean water, go beachy

I have it on a good authority that “ocean water, go beachy” was one of the first sentences I spoke. This is not surprising, because my father loved going to the beach and we usually went to the beach every Saturday during summer, from the time I was very little. At first it was just me (and somewhere there is a picture of me in a seaweed hula skirt). Eventually four children would climb in the back of the pick up truck (and any neighbor kid who happened to want to go too) and off we’d go. I can only imagine how much my mother must have enjoyed those quiet Saturday mornings. I think my sister is the only one who carried on the regular beach trips with her children. She e-mailed me earlier in the week: “I got Dad down to the beach on Monday. What an absolutely gorgeous day. Perfect beach weather. Just loved it. He did okay walking along there. It is a bit of a struggle, mind you, for him especially on the sand but he plugged away and we made it without him falling down. The current and the white wash was pretty strong that day, and I just didn't think it wise for him to try to manage getting in the water much. I didn't want him to get knocked down. So I felt bad for him in a way, but he's fine about everything. Just so happy to get down there and see the sights and smell the smells and enjoy the beauty of the ocean....” And I guess that’s my dad in a nutshell. At nearly 81 years old, with two knees having been replaced and blind in one eye, he is full of joy at life and he has, along with the Apostle Paul, managed to learn the secret of “being content, no matter what the circumstances.”