Month: August 2018

The Beach House and Summer Haven

We have been once again rapidly zigzagging our beloved states of Florida and South Carolina. First stop…Barnacle Bills in St. Augustine, to meet-up with David and Rosie and Ben for fried shrimp. Hugs and kisses and “so glad to see you’s” all around.  Then back to business because Barnacle Bills is the Holy Place for shrimp at the end of their life.  They batter them with Datil Pepper and drop them in the fryer. When they reach a golden brown, the waiter brings them to our table along with coleslaw, hushpuppies, and a dish of collards.  Best of the South.  Barnacle Biil’s has been a mainstay for us since they opened, and the service and shrimp has always been the best on the Northeast Coast.

With tummies full of shrimp and hearts full of anticipation we made our way to Summer Haven and The Beach House. Of course we were bringing each other up to date on our lives and, like every family, catching a snag now and then as we drove the short distance.

The Beach House has been in Rosie’s family since it’s inception.  It’s set up on stilts, t on the North side of Gene Johnson Road and Old A1A. From the front side you see the wide veranda porch that wraps the North, East and West sides of the beloved house.  It sits on PVC pipes on concrete supports atop a large sand dune. My brother David says nobody knows why it doesn’t slip off the supports, but thinks it might be the shape of the roof.  When the wind hits the house it travels up the slope of the roof and is pushed down as the wind rushes back up to the sky. This wonderful place has survived a number of furious hurricanes over the years, but unlike mama’s beach house, it was built far enough back on the dunes to avoid the worst of the weather. About a half-acre of sand, palms, undergrowth and overgrowth do a decent job of protecting the house. And the bottom is open so any floods flow right through from the front to the back rarely destroying anything vital.

The original house square is believed to be over 100 years old.  Nana and Louie Phillips bought it with Uncle Albert and Bee Phillips. Eventually it was Bud and Phyllis Tilghman.  1964 was a bad hurricane…Donna.  There were various others but most didn’t really hurt the old beauty…. We had Matthew a couple of years ago with 3 or four less powerful ones … it was Matthew that wiped out the Summer Haven cove, but not The Beach House.

As children we used to absolutely loved hurricanes. We would leave school and head for the beach to watch up close the power of nature. The waves would be huge and would crash against the rocks the state of Florida would place to stop the ocean from crossing old A1A.  That’s why mama’s house didn’t make it, because it sat on pylons at the edge of the Matanzas Point and on the ocean side of A1A. The Beach House survived…. Oh my Gosh, though, the short time mama’s house was out over the ocean, we had an absolutely holy place at the beach. Nothing between the night sky and us. Nothing between the magnificent and powerful Atlantic Ocean and us. Alan Ewing once said they were not going to put anything in the house they couldn’t lose, because the hurricanes were absolutely going to take it one of these days. And he was right…but it was after Alan had died and mama moved what was left of the house to the other side of old A1A and sold it.  No magic left in it.

 

The Beach House survived them all however. Paw-Paw sat on that wrap-around porch, where you could always find a breeze, and smoked his cigars, saturated by his wonderful memories, till he died in his 90’s…  till he couldn’t climb over the rocks to get to his beloved beach to fish anymore.  Rosie showed me a picture of Pa Pa and Phyllis when they were about 24 or 25 years old and my God they were beautiful. Both of them looked sexy as hell and she looked like Rhonda Fleming and he resembled a handsomer Clark Gable with a big ole stogey sticking out the side of his lips. They both looked gorgeous and sexy. It’s interesting to see pictures of people you have known all your life when they were young (probably when you first knew them). I was startled to see the shining freshness of their faces and the anticipation in their eyes.  Made me wonder if I ever felt that kind of anticipation. I was afraid of my future and as a consequence made all sorts of crazy decisions. I don’t ever remember having the patience to allow a moment to develop into an hour, or an hour into a day. I had no idea who I was, or what I wanted to be.  I was in a rush to find someone to love me. It never occurred to me I could trust myself to create a good, solid future for me.  Oh no. I wanted out of my life and into someone else’s. I wonder: are there any young women who pause, take a deep breathe, and learn how to live alone before joining another “for as long as they both shall live”.   That’s another story for another day.

Today Rosie and Ben manage the house and it’s upkeep.  I am so lucky because my sister Rosie loves me enough to share. The water tower sat out back, nestled in the Florida scrub made up of palmetto, palm and underbrush, The daily rains would fill the tower and a shower was constructed on the side so we could wash our hair and bodies in rainwater. It was magical and wonderful and we were very lucky children.

The old tower came down sometime in the 70’s or 80’s. I think. (I’ll check with my source and get back to you.).  We should have had a ritual or ceremony of some sort to show our gratitude for the years of fabulous, rainwater showers.

I wonder if we could replicate that water tower today…build it out of stronger stuff? Surely it wouldn’t be that difficult… right?  But then again, what kind of water would we collect. Today it is likely to be polluted- or at the least certainly less pure than the waters of our youth. I can’t help but believe so much of the pollution filling our oceans and streams is due to the lack of foresight as well as just plain old-fashioned greed.  Companies and corporations pouring their waste water into the oceans…and the ignorance of people who don’t even know enough to pick up their own trash (including cigarette butts!) when they leave after a day at the beach. Who are these people???
I remember when I was in Doctor’s Hospital in Manhattan giving birth to my son. I had a private room with a window looking out over the Hudson Bay. There was an odd looking boat on the river pulling a huge pile of what looked like garbage out to sea. I asked the nurse, “What is that” and she replied, “That’s a garbage scow going out to sea to dump NYC’s garbage I was horrified, when she said it, and I am horrified now. I am sure NYC does not still do that, but the fact that they, and likely we, ever did is unacceptable. Look to Sweden. Can we do what they do?

We pull in behind the house where the water tower used to be and open our car doors. The humidity is so thick we know a storm is coming. This time of the year afternoon thundershowers are de-rigor and the skies open up just as we grab a couple of suitcases and head up the stairs.  The great thing is we are going to be here just the five of us for four days.

To be continued,,,

 

The Summer Rains 1

“One tree is like another, but not too much. One tulip is like the next tulip, but not altogether.  More or less like people–a general outline, then the stunning individual strokes.”  Mary Oliver, Upstream, Penguin Press, NY,NY, 2014.  “Family is a place where when you go there, they have to take you in. Pat Conroy, Prince of Tides.

I began the first leg of my flight to Charleston at 6:00AM on July 15, 2018. It was time for my annual vacation with my siblings in South Carolina, Palatka and Tallahassee, Florida.   Di met me in baggage claim. She is losing her hearing and cannot orient to my voice when I call to her in the cavernous cacophany that is the Charlotte airport. The city is building an addittion to the present airport, and it appears to be constructing it  directly in front of the current airport. This results in zero, nada, noplace for passenger pick-up but a 10ft. long area in front of the exit door from the current airport. This is madness.  Men in neon yellow blowing constantly on whistles that threaten to bust your eardrums, orange traffic cones everywhere, angry, impatient drivers blowing their horns, people jumping into the cars with their baggage as fast as possible so as not to be killed by the other cars! In the meantime, Jim was stuck in the two lines of mile long traffic trying to get to the “pick-up” area. It was a crazy, dangerous zoo! It took us an hour and a half to get out of the airport! Whew! But it was great to see Di and Jim. I was exhausted from the day and the travel, so it wasn’t long after our nice reunion that I excused myself and went to bed.

We decided to take a day before heading to Summer Haven and The Beach House. We got up, got our coffee and visited for a couple of hours. We agreed we would head out the next day and travel straight to St, Augustine  to meet with David and Rosie at Barnacle Bill’s, where the best fried shrimp in all of Florida comes out of their kitchen.  We drove through a couple of rain storms on the way, and we stopped once for gas. Nothing memorable, except Di and I getting into our usual tussel about our differences.  Family squabbles happened from Van Wyck to Barnacle Bill’s, part of being family. At about 3 pm we pulled into St. Augustine and the restaurant, met up with David and Rosie and Ben and downed about four dozen shrimp! Then we headed towards The Beach House. Rainstorms greeted us as we pulled up where the old wooden water tower once stood! I can remember washing my hair in the rainwater collected by that great towering basin…showers too. Heaven from an old, rickety water tower that is no longer there. It aged out.

 

Part 2-Rain, Art, Mama Mia

We are on the downside of our annual family reunion. I am still working on the upside and will publish it later. (If that’s a problem for you, wait a couple of weeks and you can read them in order.)

As I write, I am in Dianne’s art class with Christina Chastain and Luna and about 20 other industrious and creatively talented artists and wannabes. Most of them are working on a hazy, lazy fall landscape scene in shades of grey and purple. I love this class Christina, of course, is a very good teacher…. patient and generous with her perfectly timed advice.  Everyone here appears to come ready for fun. Lots of laughing and painting. “Keeping a dry brush with wet paint is really hard.” “Make sure it’s different shades of purple.” “Get some of those gold, red, yellow colors on your canvas.”  “use too much brown and the dark colors “… “Is the music too loud? I’m taking a tai-chi art class next week.” “ What? Do you hold the brush with your teeth?”  What a warm and happy community Christina has created in her space. “Do you guys need to spray your palette?” Voices of participants bounce around spreading warmth and joy.

Let me describe her space. It’s about a 50 by 30ft room decorated by floor to ceiling supports dressed to look like trees with tiny white lights and random, dripping winter Christmas lights. She has also placed large white globes, about 4-5 feet in diameter, with daisy-like metal flowers on the ends of spokes. The ceiling is high and the effect is one of a winter wonderland. There are pictures on every single wall signed by her various students over the years, including a couple of signed Tiffany Copen’s.

Dianne’s working on a bird picture, a kingfisher with a kill in his beak. She is focused on the background and declares she is not happy with the results. We have to leave early to go to an appointment—but I can’t remember what or why. I think we ended up going to see MamaMia at a theater in Ballantine Village. Di and I couldn’t get two seats together due to the crowd of people longing for a good ABBA fix.  Later in the car going home it became apparent that Di and I had watched two completely different films. Me: where the daughter of Merle Streep, Sophie, returns to the island after Merle dies. She leaves her fiancé in Manhattan. His name is SKY…that information becomes important later… She holds a huge party to celebrate her mother’s life. All three of her fathers fly in for the celebration. In the meantime, Sophie meets and is intimate with three different boyfriends. SKY returns and she sleeps with him. The rabbit dies and she is pregnant. Sophie tells SKY he is the father and about 5 months later Sophia has the baby and all three of Sophie’s father’s are present for the celebrated birth, and all three boyfriends show up, also Cher shows up as Sophie’s Grandmother and sings her heart out!  Everybody in the theater sang along with all the cast in the MamaMia finale.

We agreed the movie was a lot of fun. But Di saw a film that had two different young women who had two different babies. She thinks SKY is the father of Sophie’s baby, but there is another girl in the movie that has her baby “all alone” That’s all I know. She’d have to tell you what that means to her.  She was very moved by the ending that happened in her film. I didn’t see her movie.

Of course, it rained all afternoon again. I swear, I must have done something wrong in a previous life. It looks like it is going to rain every day this entire 6 weeks of vacation. I’ll get back to you, if anything happens worth telling before I leave for home in Henderson on August 19th. We have plans to go to Lake Jocassiee if it stops raining long enough next week! I’ll keep in touch.