My maternal grandparents were married in September of 1953. He served as a helicopter pilot in the Army for thirty of those years, and they spent those first decades of their marriage traversing the country (and globe) as he was stationed at different bases. Fort Belvoir in Virginia, San Antonio, Darmstadt in Germany, Enterprise, Alabama, the coast of Washington state. He was in Korea when my mother was born, and for 9 months after that; in Vietnam later on.
Because they moved so much, when it came time to celebrate their 50 years of wedded bliss, their network of family and friends was so spread out that a single big party didn’t seem the way to go. Plus, Grandma’s an introvert. Instead, they took their kids (Mom and Uncle Jeff), my dad and three young sisters, their grandchildren, for a week’s vacation on the Outer Banks, the barrier islands off North Carolina. That was in 2003. Since then, we’ve added and lost participants: all three of us McCleneghan girls now have spouses, and there are six great-grandkids; my folks divorced and my grandparents’ health has declined so that they can’t make the trek. But, more years than not, we’ve gathered for a week on the beach. With no agenda other than reconnecting, relaxing, and maximizing time in the sun while minimizing sunburns. (My sister’s boys are all blond and blue-eyed and they turn pink in approximately seven seconds without SPF 612.)
We’ve almost always gone to the Outer Banks, but this year we decided to try something new and headed instead to Jekyll Island, one of the Georgia barrier islands.
When we first arrived, the kids had opinions about this change. The water is warmer — much warmer — than they’re accustomed to, and the ocean shelf is such that there are no waves for boogie boarding. The tide doesn’t go down til 2 in the afternoon, and so the beach doesn’t exist until later in the day. The water is brown, with tannins from the trees that dot the coast.
It didn’t take too long, however, for them to discover the blessings of this place: the sand dollars — live sand dollars — are plentiful. They’ve plucked live conch from the sea, and watched pelicans swoop and dive. We visited sea turtles and museums and shopped for local art (me) and jewelry (them). The lack of waves means the little ones are far less likely to get sand in their eyes, and the parents are far more likely to let them explore the sand while making some progress on their books. During the rain, they play hide and seek and Cards Against Humanity (family edition), and I marvel at my big girls nurturing their younger cousins.
Things are not as they have been, not exactly — there’s loss, to be sure — but there’s such sweetness and life here, too. Not everything is perfect (this is a white bread little enclave, let me tell you), but it’s also not as bad as we feared (the ocean is always this warm here at this time of year).
As summer vacation season winds down for many families, and we prepare to start our program year at UCG, I hope you, too, have had time to reflect and relax, so that when we come together again, we can celebrate our traditions and celebrate the changes each new year brings.
Grace and Peace, from the beach,
Bromleigh