Paradise, better known as Assateague Island

As a kid, we always took numerous vacations and one of those vacations was always to the shores of Assateague Island.  We would spend several weeks at this spectacular National Seashore.  As we would near the ocean, Dad would say with adventure in his whole being, "Can you smell it? You can smell it!"  All the windows were feverishly cranked down and  heads popped out to soak in the aroma.  He would get all the occupants of the car in a buzz- it was the brisk perfume of salt water filling the air.  That meant we were nearing our destination.  Soon, we would be at the BEACH!

Assateague Island at that time was untouched, unspoiled and very primitive.  There were no paved roads, no drinking water, and no indoor showers.  There was no camp store to provide ice or forgotten rations.  And worst of all, the Island had biting flies that were the size of bumble bees.  But it was all worth the inconviences to be on the most breathtaking beach of the East coast.

When we arrived, there were no assigned camping sites.  One just drove on the sandy path and pulled into an area that looked promising to set up camp.  The unfortunate ones drove until they got stuck and their choice of camping area was made for them.  Next came the task of unloading the car and setting up camp.  For a kid, this process took at least 8 hours, and getting yelled at atleast twice.  Finally, we would climb the dunes and the closer we got, the sound turned from a gentle ripple to a grande splash.  The waves were calling us to come play.  Across the soft sand then to the tides' hard packed sand we ran to revel in the salty water of the Altantic Ocean.  Vacation had begun!

Sometime during our vacation, we would have our annual feast- blue crabs, their bodies the size of a dinner plate, homegrown tomatoes, corn and peaches.  Jon-Jon always cleaned and picked out all of his crabs, then ate the meat at the very end of his meal.  Me, I ate the sweet succulent meat as I went along, licking my fingers to get the Old Bay seasoning to mingle with the crab.  As night grew near, the latern took us into darkness as we continued to eat until our appetites were satisfied.  Mom had the bedcovers turned down, and out cold we were under the starry night. 

First thing of a morning, the smell of bacon would waft through the tent:  it worked better than any alarm clock.  Mom would have pancakes and bacon cooking on the Coleman propane stove.  After breakfast came clean-up at the site, then packing up for the day at the beach.  Off we went for another adventure.  Dad, Jon-Jon and I rode the waves with our bodies, Mom mainly stayed on the beach, watching and protecting her brood.  As lunchtime grew near, we needed no clock to tell us the time, the days activities had worn us out.  Lunch always consisted of Fig Newtons, Sardines in Mustard and crackers, cold-cuts and cheese.  In later years we added Spaghetti-O's out-of-the-can and Oreos.  For Dad there was always beer, Schlitz of course. 

Weeks were spent on the beach, playing in the sand and surf.  Our bodies would first burn, then bronze under the Maryland sun.  (Sun block was yet to be invented.)  Every evening when the sun went down we wondered at the amazing sky, finding the big dipper, catching falling stars and pondering the great vastness.  Our tired bodies slept the peace you find after having had another glorious day. 

I grew up owning the ocean for I was part fish my Dad used to tell me.  It was a part of me.  A lot of people I have met in life have never know the simple pleasure of spending three weeks in a tent, nestled between sand dunes, riding the waves without a surfboard, eating a Fig Newton while trying to keep the sand off it, taking a shower outdoors with your bathing suit on, and maybe even catching a glimpse of the wild ponies or a falling star.  I feel priviledged.  Thanks Mom and Dad for sharing your gift.