Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Beaches, Booze & Buffett

I don't think i can explain it. I'm a midwestern girl, born & raised. have never spent more than 24 hours at a beach, at any one time, and can count the time i've been to either coast on one hand. flat lands and cornfields are what i know.

what i want is ocean. a friend is going to a jimmy buffett concert in the next week, and posted some videos on her blog. i watched the first video, and cried. watched the second, and cried again.

i'm not ashamed to admit i'm a parrothead. i've read all of jimmy's books. at one time i owned every cd, except the very first album, which is very hard to find. but there's something about his music, no matter what style it is (i've heard country, pop, reggae, big band swing, and everyother thing except rap), it makes me think of the ocean. good times on the boardwalk, watchin' people go by. sitting by a bonfire on the beach with your honey, a good brew, and good friends. walking in the surf, thinking simple thoughts.

Smelling the salt air, feeling the breeze and the spray on your face, and the sand under your feet.
I think, maybe in a previous life, i lived on the beach.


Anonymous said...

Come on out West m'dear. Our ocean is cold, but a feast for the senses. And we have plenty of LYS, one only blocks from the ocean!

Sarabeth said...

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweat dream when the long trick's over.

Sea Fever, by John Masefield.

Snarled Yarns said...

Sweetie it's all you've dreamed of and more. I was raised on the Atlantic, spent 7 months by the Gulf and about an hour at the Pacific. It's beautiful. I brought my first husband there who had never seen the ocean before. He was so in love he just sat there and stared at it. Every day he said, Can we go back to the beach? Now I'm kinda missing it myself.

The Mets Police said...

what's your friend's link?

Kathy said...

I've lived close to the ocean almost all of my life and sometimes I have to remind myself to go visit. I live about 600 feet from the harbor and every morning on my way to work, I look off to my right and check out the water. I visit the beach on a year round basis, no need to save it for the summer. I wish I could send you some sand!

But on the other hand, there's beauty everywhere, and I'm sure you must live near lots!

Tola said...

my daughter is a 4th generation Parrothead. my granny is 96, and my dad always yells, "dont forget Jimmy" as he packs the car up for a road trip.