Thursday, May 3, 2007
The Oregon Coast Days: Assignment #18 (and Sunday Scribblings)
I assigned InlandEmpireGirl and Silver Valley Girl and me to write about the Oregon Coast. You can find IEGirl's post here and SVGirl's post here. Both of their stories are very funny. What's more, this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "ocean".
I hate to admit it, but I was married twice before the Deke and I got married almost ten years ago. I suffered particularly acutely when my first wife and I divorced. I bring this up, because the cabin my family and I stayed at for several visits to the coast was one that I learned about when married to my first wife and it was with her that I first stayed there.
Consequently, our family get togethers at the coast were, for me, always tinged with melancholy and a dose of self-pity. At some point during our visits, I would find a way to separate myself from the others and I'd go to beach, the indifferent waves crashing harshly on the rocks, and I'd be sad, the unrelenting waves and the impervious changes in the tide impressing upon me how the larger world itself was oblivious to my suffering.
But, the beauty of those waves and the power of the gravitational forces that pulled the ocean's rhythms in and out transported me beyond my confusion and pulled me out of my longing and my deep sense of failure.
So did my family. Mom and Dad loved the ocean. Dad loved the seagulls and the sunsets. Mom loved the view and the beauty of the water. The ocean climate and scenery embodied a world so very different than North Idaho and they loved the feeling of being in a whole new place.
I have the oddest memory that really isn't much of a memory, but that has stuck with me over the years. Maybe a little background first: when it came to gift buying and doing special things in our family, Mom was in charge. This was true whether it was the holidays or just something as simple as bringing home a new breakfast cereal or a new kind of soda pop on the market. We always knew that Mom took care of the Sears Santa Claus orders and that Dad helped support the gifts and other special things with his wages, but he didn't often show up at home after being uptown with some kind of little thing for Mom or for us kids. (I don't remember this being a problem. I think we all knew it was the way things were.)
Well, one of the Augusts that we were at the coast, Dad got up early and went out to take a walk around Yachats. Yachats is a nice town to walk around in. The ocean is visible from nearly every street. Yachats is small (so Dad wouldn't get lost). When the fog breaks and sun comes out, the air is clean and moist with salt.
Dad went out to get a cup of coffee. I think he wanted to see of any of the local boys had a coffee cronie corner somewhere that he might be able to join in on and find out what was going on around town these days. Dad loved to do this. He'd find someone willing to talk and he'd ask questions about the houses or how the myrtle trees grew sideways and find out how far east the sand dunes moved each year and come up with some crazy (and hilarious) calculation about how long it would take the dunes to reach Kellogg.
Well, this particular morning, I don't know if he found any locals to shoot the breeze with, but he did find a doughnut shop and brought a box of doughnuts back to the cabin.
That's pretty much the end of the story. I loved those doughnuts. I loved that he found the doughnut shop (on his own) and thought we'd like to have doughnuts that morning. He was all smiles when he walked in the door and we were all smiles when he arrived.
It's not a funny story. It's not really monumental. But it's always stuck with me. Those doughnuts really made me happy.
Poured Like an Anode by raymond pert at 12:24 AM