What Happens at the Wanna Wanna...

The palapa (open sided shelter with a thatched palm roof) out back at the Wanna Wanna had seen better days, and now the delicate pinpoints of stars could be seen through the brittle brown fronds. The moon floated in and out of view in an ebony haze of nighttime clouds.

The Wanna Wanna band, the Wannabees, chewed through their laid back playlist with volume and gusto. A few people danced in the middle of the floor and more stood in line at the kitchen window to order up their choice of just- swimming- in- the- Gulf seafood.

We, however, were there to talk, catch up, and relax. Close friends, some of us stretching back even into high school, we were here at the beach in a rented condo while our husbands were off to welcome in the first weekend of dove hunting season.

"I've really been looking forward to this weekend, girls," said Marla* as she squeezed a lime wedge over her ceviche. "I feel like all I do is work, cook, and clean house!"

"Well, you got to feed all those boys, not to mention Marcos, so I imagine your kitchen is still going 24/7," laughed Emmy while she picked through her shrimp cocktail. "Hey, speaking of, are you and Marcos still going to try for a girl? Time's running out, you know..."

Marla cut her off with a splutter. "Give me a break! I'm already 44! This baby factory is closed for good." She laughed and changed the subject. "How's your salad, Shelly?"

I had a mouthful, so I nodded to show I enjoyed it, but my mind was already drifting dreamily out into the dark, pounding surf. I swallowed and and pointed out to the vast, undulating darkness of the oceanjust yards from our table. "Aren't those waves something? I can't wait to hit the beach tomorrow." The others nodded in agreement and talk of new swimsuits overtook the next few minutes.

Marla looked at the fourth friend in our group, Julie, who had been silently chewing her way through her grilled shrimp poor-boy. "Julie, you're awfully quiet, especially for someone who loves to talk as much as you do. Everything OK?"

Julie looked up and put her sandwich down. A wry, wistful look crossed her face. "I am tired. Tired of doing everything the same, always. Always following the rules, doing what I'm supposed to..."

Emmy raised her eyebrows. "You're not thinking of robbing a bank or getting a facial tattoo or something really crazy , like some of those women who go all cuckoo when they hit middle age?"

Julie looked out at the ocean and then back at us. "I'm serious. Sometimes I just want to shake things up a little, you know? I don't want to become boring and predictable. Don't you all ever feel like that?"

We all looked around and nodded our heads. Julie suddenly smiled. "I think tonight's a good night to break out of old habits." She grinned widely. " Who's with me?"

I felt a little sliver of fear rise up in my belly, but the excitement of the unexpected trumped it and I bobbed my head enthusiastically with the rest.

Julie worked her feet under the table and her shoes came off. "Let's go!" she said emphatically as she broke from the table and sprinted to the water. We watched, wide eyed, as she plowed on, fully clothed, into water that was just past waist deep. She yelled back over the waves hitting the shore, "Come on! Are you a bunch of chickens?"

Marla, Emmy and I looked at each other. Marla pulled off her watch and shoes, stuffed them into her purse, and bolted from the table, through the sand, and into the water. The laughter and shrieks as they soaked themselves jumping over and through waves was too much. I pulled off my watch, too, and was kicking off my sandals when Emmy looked at our waitress who assured, "Go ahead. I'll watch your stuff!"

With that, Emmy freed herself and we both ran headlong, giggling, into the ocean. Maybe it was the opaque blackness of the water, or the startled faces of the other patrons, or the power of the surf, but something was liberated in us that night.

Clothes that had been carefully matched and chosen were utterly drenched. Hair that had been meticulously curled, flat ironed, or blown dry now whipped around, slinging that salty water high into the air. A small crowd soon gathered on the beach to watch women play in the ocean who'd obviously lost their sanity. 

When we finally pulled ourselves out of the Gulf , dripping, sand pasted past our ankles, and still choking with laughter,  we came away wiser and somehow younger than we went in.

And what happens at the Wanna Wanna, sometimes doesn't always stay at the Wanna Wanna. 

*I promised not to use their real names.  

Where Do Old Hippies Go?

The crispness of the air shot up my nostrils like an errant Neti Pot blast, paralyzing them for an instant as I hurried out of my hotel room. Hurry, I thought. The sun's already moving! After hustling the few steps down to the crunchy sand, I aimed my camera at the warming sky.

The unfolding grandeur of the first rays mesmerized me. "Ain't it gorgeous?" a voice croaked from behind, startling me. I turned and could just make out an older woman with long gray hair sitting in a beach chair, smoking a cigarette. "I'll never get tired of seeing it, " she said in her husky, smoke coated voice. I was chilled in my yoga pants and sweat shirt. I couldn't figure out how she was not shivering in her bikini top and cut off denim shorts.

"It really is a thing of beauty," I replied as I took this shot.

The nascent light revealed more of her features. In addition to her gray hair, the nut brown color of her skin bespoke a life lived in the sun. Her bikini top was more a hammock for its tired occupants than a support.

"I love to start my days like this. Just me, my cigs, and the sun. Makes me feel like I'm starting all over, too, just like the sun does everyday."

I nodded in agreement as I set up for the third photo.

She continued. "When I was a teenager, back in the 60's, we didn't trust anything that looked old." She took a long drag on her cigarette as I tried to move away from the exhalation. "Sheesh. We thought we knew it all then. They called us hippies, and a lot of other names that weren't very nice. We just wanted to find truth. Thought we could save the world, that we had all the answers."

I nodded to show her I was still listening while I maneuvered for my next picture. The heavenly volcanoes of the sun were about to pour their molten light all over the sky.

"We thought we knew it all, but we didn't. And I just have to kind of laugh at each new generation who thinks they know it all." She inhaled deeply as she took another puff.

"I think we all go through that, you know, where we think we know it all better than the generation before us," I commented.

She cackled and ended with a dry, rattling cough. "Yep. Old age. You never think it's going to catch you, but when it does, it surprises you with the wisdom it brings. Hey, do you know where old hippies go to die?"

I stopped for a minute as she continued. "We come here to the beach and ride those beautiful sun rays right up to the sky!"

It's a Thankless Job...But I'll Do It

I want to wish each of you a(n) (early) very happy Valentine's Day.

I will be leaving for a conference and won't be back until next week. I have to go here

and see things like this when I take my early morning run on the beach.

Our meeting rooms are going to look out over this.

And I might even see this little guy again

Well, it's a tough job, but somebody had to do it, so I stepped up to the plate. I will see you all in blogland next week!

How to Attract the Attention of the Coast Guard

A photographer friend of mine wanted to take pics of my daughter near the beach yesterday. It was a lovely time with glorious weather, ideal lighting conditions, and all the things that make a great photo opportunities.

One of the places my photog friend wanted to try was on a picturesque jetty that has a very large bridge near it.

Friend positioned daughter on the rocks just off the jetty and was delighted the waves were whipped up enough  to provide spray in the background. I was holding the bags and my butt and back were soaked from the spray, but anything for art.

People walked back and forth on this narrow jetty also enjoying the scenery and the sea waters. The jetty was slippery and I moved gingerly each time we shifted because I did not want to fall off.

Suddenly, a woman ran, RAN, down the jetty to my friend and urgently said, "Watch out- the Coast Guard will take your camera and equipment if they see you shooting pictures in the direction of the bridge! It happened to my brother. Taking pictures of the bridge supports violates national security!"

My friend was shocked, but quickly shifted her position so as not to be pointing in the direction of the bridge. I reassured her after the woman left, telling her we didn't quite fit the terrorist profile and surely the other woman was exaggerating just a little.

We were soon left alone on the jetty to finish the pictures.

As if on cue,  a Coast Guard cutter eased into view. My friend and daughter were occupied with taking their pictures, but I saw three men on the cutter pull out binoculars when they got closer to the jetty and train them on us.

My friend and daughter are both beautiful, so at first I thought these Coast Guard guys were looking just for the fun of it.

When the cutter turned around and headed back in our direction, this time with more folks with binoculars poointed our way, I alerted my friend and we packed up and hustled off the jetty.

The cutter turned back around and headed out further into the gulf, but lesson learned. Even cameras can violate national security these days.