1 August, 2013 16:05

Hatteras

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5 Responses to “1 August, 2013 16:05”

  1. It’s raining cats and dogs here (again). Hope you are faring better (or baring farther? (as the case may be))

  2. Great week at the beach!

  3. Baring farther in the Outer Banks reminded me of this “travel memoir”.
    It was 1972 and I was all of fifteen when my older friends Roddy and Jody (may they rest in peace) took me down to the outer Banks in Roddy’s custom van. You remember the kind, sleeping bunks, captains chairs, cabinets, Hi Fi, shag carpet etc. Roddy took his three year old son, Sean, along for the trip. Sean was the coolest little kid I ever met. His parents let his hair grow very long. I guess he was kind of a “hippie” kid. I was friends with Jody and Roddy because we were in the same drama troupe. Jody was a very large portly guy always smiling and kidding around, a real “hale fellow well met”. Roddy was a little wiry guy who had an almost scary charisma. Both women and men were drawn like a magnet to Roddy, especially women.
    Around dusk we passed the beach barrier into North Carolina, let half the air out of the tires and began to drive down the beach of the OBX. We soon stopped for the night and got some sleep but
    after two hours were forced to drive to slightly higher ground as the tide was about to overtake the van. As dawn broke on the totally deserted beach we all went to swim in the surf. I’ll never forget the beauty of this sunrise with its ever changing kaleidoscope of color in the sea and sky. Pods of dolphins arched fifty yards offshore headed north in some sort of synchronized dolphin ballet as the varied hues of the dawn reflected off their slick curved bodies.
    We had been swimming in the nude and it seemed natural for me to just wrap a towel around my waist and take a walk down the beach. Cars were few and far between and anyway you could see them as the approached for a mile down the beach in either direction so I soon just threw the towel around my neck. How pleasurable it felt to be “au natural” as I waded southward in the surf. I kept turning around thinking I had heard a car coming but it was always just the sound of the waves breaking. Then I looked up and saw an International Travelall only thirty feet away proceeding past me. The large station wagon was full of elderly nuns. It was really too late to cover up so all I could think to do was just put on my sweetest smile and give a gentle wave. The nuns fell into two camps. About half of the eight sisters were forcing themselves to gaze straight ahead while the others turned to stare, (presumably in shock and horror) jaws agape.
    I went back to the van but only a few minutes passed before a green jeep came roaring up driven by the oldest North Carolina park ranger I’ve ever seen. This jasper had to be eighty if he was a day and he was livid about my performance for the nuns. He asked, “Where all ya’ll from?’ When we answered, “Virginia” he said, “Well that figgers!”. Spotting little Sean he then boomed out, “Don’t ya’ll think there ain’t nothin’ wrong with parading around buck nekkid in front of this innocent little girl?” Roddy stood, looked him straight in the eye and said “That’s my son, sir.” At that the oldest park ranger in history seemed flustered and just ordered us to get the hell out of North Carolina. He followed us all the way to the Virginia line to make sure we had left his state where they seem to frown on reminding nuns about things in life they might have missed.
    I know that was a long comment but you know, that’s the way I roll.

  4. jude3obscured Says:

    when you gonna put all your stories in a book, Roto?

  5. I suppose I will need a copy editor plus I was recently told that they weren’t “stories” they were just “travel memoirs”. I thought you were going to admonish me for spelling “au naturel” au natural and the typo of “the” instead of “they”. I can only hope that “The Daily Muse” has a vast unlimited archive in the sky, er, ” Cloud” from which I can retrieve my little scibblings since I can’t find most of them. I do find it rather cathartic to put my thoughts and memories to paper. Come to think of it, I just recalled a few more stories concerning nuns and park rangers but unlike the above one, not combined. As an exericise I should attempt to combine the nuns and park rangers as the principal characters in a single memoir, oops, NOW that’s a story.

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