Life's a Beach!

Oh the joys of summer! The endlessly long hot days, the enervating humidity for those living in the flatlands of the eastern seaboard! And while I'm at it, the mosquitoes, the bugs, the traffic, traffic, traffic. Yes, let me say again, the traffic.

But let's face it, once you arrive at Ocean City and smell the salt air, hear the waves crashing, feel the sand between your toes and oh my god, the unbelievable heat of it as you struggle to carry all your schtuff ...it is worth it for the few hours of total zone-outed-ness!

So you settle in, try and put up an umbrella that is instantly blown backwards by the wind so that its pathetic spines are inside out and the brolly is ready to be dumped in the nearest trash can. And you submit to the temptation to rent one from the old bearded guy who very kindly erects his very sturdy, very large umbrella, and you pay him, and you are grateful because this is a king sized, hardworking, reliable piece of beach furniture that you just know you gonna love!

The serious business of applying sunscreen begins, and you can already feel the grains of sand sticking to you from the occasional blasts that sting your legs and put grimace lines on your face. I don't hold with sunscreen beyond an 8, and I like 4 best, but a good 30 for the face is a must...and believe me ladies, don't apply the regular stuff to your glorious visage, it will block up your pores and give you zits. So take the trouble, and the expense, and invest in a good one for the noggin and the chest. I have ugly ugly turkey skin on my chest from my days in the sun as a young girl, in my short-lived bikini days.

Once that is done, you can flop down on your towel and survey the scene: over there, children are playing in the water, the lifeguard is focused and alert, ready to go peeeeep with his whistle and make stern, rude gestures at the people with boogie boards who are edging over to the "swimmers only" area; several plump girls with rather ugly tattoos are flowing out of their bikinis, older ladies in skirty-type swimsuits are sitting smoking (urgh, I so wish people wouldn't do that, it STINKS!), young dudes are striding out of the water, wearing those ridiculous looonnng swim things which are riding low on their hips with their underwear showing (another serious URGH!!! when is that fashion going to change and how they heck do they swim with those trunks flapping in the water?). Yeah, beach. Fun.

And then I hear a baby crying and crying and I look around, behind me, a little ways back, there is a woman with what looks to be a three month old baby, trying to feed him a bottle. And this really makes me very, very angry. The baby is not wearing a hat, and she has no shade for him to lie under. I grapple with my maternal instincts and my overriding sense of superiority: I am a mother, an old one, and I should be going over and telling her, "What the heck are you doing with such a tiny baby on the beach, with no hat, no umbrella, in this heat, woman? Do you have any sense at all?" But I don't, I just sit there and fume and recall the time my son, who was three, got a mild dose of heatstroke . It was awful, he was burning up, throwing up, listless and dehydrated and this was while he was wearing a hat , under an umbrella, wearing sunscreen (they didn't have anything beyond 20 back then). I felt so bad and we had only spent the morning at the beach and had returned back to our hotel room by noon. That is how quickly it can happen.

So this is the moral of this particular story: for goodness' sake, keep your babies well protected and hydrated if you go to the beach. I know it is a drag, but let them rest in between playing and swimming. Give them frequent drinks and snacks, and get them out of the sun.

Be careful out there, and enjoy yourselves.

Al and Tipper

I am quite sure that yesterday's news about the impending Gorey situation has many people in a tizz, to put it mildly.

Forty years of marriage about to become a shared history, part of the collective unconscious. No, there is no affair. They have decided to call it quits. From all accounts I have heard, Tipper wants to do her own thing. She has been an exemplary wife and mother. She has fulfilled the role of Second Lady with grace. She made many of us feel that it was okay to be a little plump, for she was loved by her husband for who she was. That now famous passionate kiss during the second term election, while not to the taste of the average political pundit, bespoke of a deep affection - a partnership in the true sense of the word- that seemed to thumb its nose at the Clintons by brazenly and publicly stating, "Look America, we love each other and we are still faithful to one another!" And now, the news that their marriage was just another statistic has made too many feel that their marriages are doomed to failure because the Gores are giving up.

All I can say is, mind your own business and mind your own marriage. Stop thinking that you can fail because they have. Besides, my hat is off to Tipper to have played the many roles she has in order for her to become herself, a strong woman with a vision of where and what she would like to be. I wish them both every success in their respective futures. I suspect they will remain friends and will be role models for how we should conduct ourselves when our nuclear family has gone nuclear and the chips are falling and destroying our faith in ourselves, our families and the meaning we ascribe to the word "love".