I believe everyone has a Power Place... a place where we belong on the planet. A place where we feel our strongest physically and mentally. For me, it’s always been the coast.
When I am at the beach looking out to the ocean, I feel at least 20 years younger. I am more at peace with the world than I am at any other location. I am most joyous at the beach. Out there along The Edge of the country is a magical place for all of us to enjoy.
Maybe it’s the salt air, the sound of the waves breaking, the seagulls singing their song, the wind in my hair, the warm sun on my back, the cool water as it washes over my feet, the feel of sand between my toes, or the vastness and power of the ocean. I think it’s all of these and more. Nothing on this planet is as curative as the coast. And it’s free. When you’re on "beach time," everything is go with the flow. No schedules. No rushing. No stress.
It’s essential to my happiness and peace of mind to have access to a coastal environment. The oceans are beautiful and peaceful, strong and majestic, alluring and rejuvenating. Dolphins smile. Pelicans dive. Crabs crawl sideways—how great is that?
Give me a pair of flip flops, my folding chair, my little Shih Tzu by my side, my latest Coastal Living Magazine, fresh seafood for supper, my RV parked nearby with my 2 cats, and happiness rides the sweet breezes. After a while I walk away with a sun-kissed glow on my cheeks and off to have a toast to the shore. Cocktail hour is waiting.
A love letter to the Gulf Coast and Grand Isle, Louisiana:
You’ve seen so much of my life over these many years. You welcomed my mom and dad and me when we visited you when I was a child and especially on my 10th birthday. You taught me how to float when I was 13 and almost drowned when I fell in a deep hole. You gave me a crunchy potato salad but the sand was the best part of our picnic when I was 15. You nourished me and my friends with a wonderful place to play during our teens. You saw my little boy’s first encounter with the sandy beach when he was two. You watched as I drove my VW van loaded with girlfriends into soft sand and got stuck when I was 25. You were the reason I went to work at the State Park so I could be closer to you when I was 30. You gave me many summers to remember throughout my adult life. I even bought a house near you and for a few years I lived with you while in my 50s. We both experienced hurricanes while we were together but we survived. Although I can no longer live with you, I continue to visit you often in my motorhome.
Then when I was 63 you were poisoned on April 20, 2010. You’ve been wronged, sullied, disgraced, and beaten and I want to lie down on your sandy shore and put my arms out and touch your gasping surface to say. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry we did this, that we all did this to you."
I’ll love you always,