One look at this picture of my Indie and her cousins and I was immediately transported back to the 70s. The beach in the town where I was born was not made for pretty pictures. It was never the white beach on the verge of becoming a major tourist destination. Its shoreline was long but covered with dark unremarkable sand; its waters, clear but certainly not crystal.
Even so, we kids were big fans of our very own beach. It was another venue for play. A huge one complete with water for wading or swimming for the adventurous among us. There was endless supply of sand for building sandcastles for which none of us had any talent. And the sea breeze! Yes, even that one could make us happy.
By the 80s, we had all grown into adolescents and the beach had lost all attraction whatsoever. Aside from the changes in hormones and preferences that happened in all of us, we had every reason not to go anymore. What used to be our favorite haunt had turned into some, I'm sorry to say, God-forsaken place in the span of a decade. The water was not just dirty, it was dangerous given that a power plant was just close by. It literally stank. There was litter everywhere. And where there was none, there were dog poops and human waste lying in wait like booby traps for the next unsuspecting beach goer.
Oh yes, life could be a bitch sometimes.
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