Tuesday, May 5, 2009

A stroll on Orange Beach 2002

A stroll along Orange Beach in April 2002

May 5, 2009

The soothing gulf breeze was perfect for a late afternoon walk on Orange Beach in April.  I don’t think they called it anything but “Gulf Shores” three generations ago when my family “scrunched” in the soft white sand and played in the docile warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico in lower Alabama (not “LA” which has nothing approaching this beach.)

The sun was glinting down behind a large high rise condo/apartment building, one of many that have sprung up along Alabama’s coast, and it was obvious that most of the beach lovers had cleared out for the evening.  No doubt some of them would be coming back for a cookout or to do a little fishing later. 

My much older eyes did not deceive the joy I once knew in playing in the sand and in the mild surf.  But those waves were huge to me then; today they seemed quite tame.  They were monstrous to a little 5 or 6-year-old boy we saw on our walk as a three-foot wave slapped him down on the beach.  He lay on his stomach looking up at us not knowing whether to smile or to cry, finally twisting his mouth into a wry grin and to the beginning of a bellow for his father standing nearby.  There’s nothing like being pummeled by a three-foot wave, at eight pounds per gallon, to give a kid a memorable life experience.

As we first approached the beach, we saw a large family gathering standing around in the soft sand in a kind of a circular perimeter defense; some of the younger ones were munching on their beach treats.  Some were fidgeting around as if they were badly in need of the “facilities.”  They did not respond to our smiling and nods of hello.

We walked on down the beach for a half-mile or so taking pictures and thoroughly enjoying the remembrances my sister and I had had many years before and we shared them with other family members.

As we returned up the beach there were at least 50 scavenging sea gulls where the large family gathering had been earlier.  As usual, the sea gulls were very aggressive in their attempts to glean anything edible from the large mess left by the family.  The wind was strewing lots of papers about helped no doubt by the vigorous wing beats of the gulls.  It was the only unpleasant sight along nearly a mile of white sandy beach.

If I were to say that the large family who made the mess was maybe “poor white trash” you might think “won’t they ever learn?” and let it go at that.  If I were to say they were all black you’d probably call me a racist.  Maybe they were Martians who just landed on the beach and did not know better.

What was an altogether marvelous experience was marred somewhat by at least two generations of a culture that just quite doesn’t get it.  I know this – there are people who will not be dismayed or discouraged to have to pick up behind trash makers.

Thanks, City of Orange Beach, keep up the good work! 

Ernest Norsworthy

Visalia, California

emnorsworthy@earthlink.net

http://norsworthyopinion.com

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