Escaping to the Beach

Meghan Cox Gurdon shares the joys of leaving the city and heading out to the shore.

Writing in the Washington Examiner, Meghan Cox Gurdon shares the joys of leaving the city and heading out to the shore.

Here, there are no mosques — and no talk of mosques.  No one is taking straw polls, or complaining about the humidity, or counting the Fenty signs.

Here, it’s mostly quiet apart from the heavy breath of the surf. The only competing sounds are the barking of dogs, the shriek of happy toddlers, and the yells of boys flinging seaweed at each other before ducking beneath the chilly waves.

“Here,” in this case, is one of the many little coves punctuating the coastlines of the United States.  There’s a modest beach, ringed with modest houses. A small alley gives public access; the road leading to it is painted with “no parking” symbols that are quickly covered up by cars and pickups that start parking on it from dawn onward.

It’s early morning when a golden Labrador streaks across the gleaming sand. The creature’s owner, having parked her Jeep (illegally), stands on the horizon, at the edge of the water, throwing something for the gamboling animal.  A little while later, an inky, shaggy dog dashes to a waterline that has moved closer without anyone really noticing.  Gulls scream and wheel in the fast-disappearing mist.

Families arrive and unpack in the prodigious way of families.  Out come boogie boards and beach towels and hampers of food and, sometimes, a little tent to protect the smallest children from the sun.

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