Tag Archives: cape cod

The Bottom Dropping Out

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We are walking on the beach when the bottom drops out. It comes from out of nowhere. One minute I am walking along doing just fine,and the next, all my strength is gone. I feel like I’ve been unplugged. I am light headed. Christine immediately notices the change. She later tells me I suddenly went pale, started sweating, looked worried. I was worried. I was scared.

The very steep set of stairs leading off the beach is maybe 100 yards away. It feels like 100 miles away. I know I have to get out of here, get back to the car. I need to sit down. I’ll feel better, I think, if I can just sit down.

Walking slowly towards the foot of the stairs things aren’t getting easier. I want to lie down on the sand and sleep. I want to sleep in the worst way. I don’t lie down on the sand and go to sleep because I am suddenly afraid if I do I’ll never get up.

Christine gathers up our shoes at the foot of the stairs and we begin our ascent. As I start climbing the stairs I decide I will not stop climbing until I reach the top. I don’t care what happens. If I collapse, I collapse. I will not give in. I am not volunteering for whatever it is that is taking a run at me.  Am I making the smartest decision? I didn’t care then and I don’t care now. It was the decision I wanted to make and so I made it.

I know I’ve been sick for a couple of weeks and my sleep has been sporadic and while I had been feeling better, it is clear I tried to do too much too soon. That’s the way it is sometimes. It’s kind of like when your eyes are bigger than your stomach. After not being well for awhile your mind is often ready to take on a level of activity before your body is.

In the car I am feeling safer. We get to a roadside food place. I eat and drink a bottle of juice and feel a little better.

Later I rest. Talk with Christine. Quietly thank God I am still alive. Remind myself (as if I need reminding) that the days are numbered for all of us. And, I remind myself once more that no matter what, I should remember to live. So should we all.

 

Bound for Cape Cod

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Called the Cape of Keel by early Norse explorers, Cape Code is a peninsula that juts out from the easternmost edge of Massachusetts.  Punctuated throughout by lighthouses, those magical sentinels that have saved lives and sent many imaginations to wonderful places, it is no wonder writers and artists gravitate to the Cape. Provincetown, or P-Town as its called (an unfortunate name in my view because it occurred to my mind that there may be a UTI epidemic there) is, I am told, an enclave of creativity and, well, fun.

Like most Americans, if not most people, Cape Cod brings the Kennedy Compound to mind. But for me it also brings playwright Eugene O’Neill to mind and, last, and first, my father. My father loved Cape Cod. In fact, he had just arrived in Cape Cod in the summer of 1969 when illness struck and killed him in less than a week. So, I suppose, in some way I will be finishing the vacation he started.

My father and I and, for that matter, all my family, loved the beach, the ocean. When I was a boy one set of grandparents lived in Rumson New Jersey and the other set lived in Ocean Grove New Jersey. Both locations are on or near the ocean. Few things are as extraordinary as the beach, in all seasons. In the mid-seventies I lived in Seagate, a peninsula off the tip of Brooklyn. My apartment was right on the beach. Doesn’t get any better, except when I went out the front door one morning and found a dead sand shark at the foot of the steps. Even dead sharks scare the hell out of me.

And so I am looking forward to this time on the Cape. Time to walk the beach, get some writing and reading in, do a bit of reflecting, reacquaint myself with Horseshoe crabs (I love those dudes) and, of course, hope I don’t run across any sharks, dead or alive.