Friday, August 27, 2010

Flying Point Beach, Southampton

In the early 80s during beach weeks at Virginia Beach--second week of June, as I remember, the first week Richmond private schools were out for the summer--we'd rent hovels a block or two off the beach and ask a young, "cool" teacher to be our chaperones, thereby convincing our parents that all activities that took place while we high schoolers were away would be those approved by these erstwhile adults. It never worked out that way, of course. Impossible for me to imagine anyone allowing their kids to do that today, thought I suppose it still happens.

I was reminded of the beach weeks of my youth when I was digging out a butt-pit for my towel, something that is evocative of those distant, clueless times. After sleepless nights we'd trundle out to the beach, dive in, ride a few waves, and spend the next hours sleeping. Someone figured out it was a lot more comfortable to dig a body-shaped hole into the beach. They were right. Thank you, whoever that might have been.

If the below photo was instead a video you would see young MRC twitching, deep in rem.

TMC, also asleep.

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