It is difficult to believe that not so long ago the beaches of southern Maine and New Hampshire were packed with carefree vacationers enjoying the sights and sounds of our beautiful shore.
Our beautiful shore is still there, unchanged, but the inhabitants are now very different. Few are seen lying on the sand. Most are walking up and down the beach where the water meets the sand enjoying a remarkably sad serenity. They all have worry in their eyes.
This has always been one of my favorite times of year. It is a time of rest when I can slow down to enjoy the good fortune of living. Because of September 11th, the financial crisis, and the fear of unemployment this has also become a special time for all of us. We find ourselves in deep thought at the prospects of a long war and financial stress. Prospects few of us remember being such a big part of our lives.
This reality also makes us realize that our lives as we knew them are destined to change. We just don't feel safe and secure anymore. Terrorists whom we never thought would enter our homes are now here. The people who hate us for what we are and for all our forefathers built are now organized and powerful enough to change the way we live. The financial institutions of which our generation trusted proved to be deceptive. No longer are the times when the the parents knew their sons or daughters would have better lives. We now hope they can survive.
These changes may be subtle but they will inevitably involve a loss of freedoms once taken for granted. We will probably be asked for identification when we board any form of public transportation. Our belongings will be searched a bit more closely as we pass through security areas. Our credit reports are difficult to understand because we've been degraded to a number.
I believe it will soon be necessary to carry identification wherever we go. Many say these changes are for the best. We are told they are for our safety and the safety of our families. I can't get myself to believe all of this. I just hope I never have to carry identification when I walk down our roads and beaches. That would be especially hard for me because rarely do I wear clothes with pockets.
Walking down Long Sands Beach I see plenty of other people and, unlike past years, they seem saddened and deep in thought.
I see one middle-aged couple and they are holding onto each other tightly, as if afraid that someone is going to take them away from each other. In past years I have seen people like this smiling and laughing, happy to be together at the beach. Today there is something solemn and a little fearful about them as they walk where the ocean meets the sand.
Right before we pass the woman shyly looks up and for a microsecond our eyes meet but there is no smile. I wonder if she is afraid of me because I am a stranger. In times past a smile always accompanied this look. Today, there is that new glimmer of fear. I guess the openness and the confidence of meeting strangers is another part of our culture the terrorists took away.
Walking a bit farther down the sands I see a young couple walking towards me. They are in their late teens or early twenties, healthy and beautiful but, unlike the older couple, they are walking apart from each other. Their voices are low and soft, talking about something that must be very serious and important. But, then again, aren't we all?
My next encounter is with a woman walking her dog. She has bright red hair that flaps like a flag in the wind. Her dog is making circles around her, jumping and barking hoping to make her happy, but she walks in a determined straight line, as though she has a fixed destination at the end of her walk.
This woman's dog finally does something that many have done before him. He squats down and presents our fine sands with a gift that is all his own work.
The woman stops, sees me looking at her and hesitates, wondering if she should pick up this little present. She gives me a sly look back then continues her walk and I wonder how something as insignificant as dog waste can be compared with what else is going on in our world. In the past I might have been annoyed with her, but today everything is different.
I also notice that everyone on the beach on this particular day is walking by the water. Few are walking on the soft white sands that lead up to the wall that was supposed to protect us from the ocean. A protection we always thought was indestructible. But, after the horror of September 11th, we all understand now that nothing is indestructible.
I stop for a moment to look out over the ocean I have become so familiar with over the past three decades. I look to my right and left and observe many people standing similarly, like statues in the sand gazing out at the enormity of the sea, looking for answers that aren't there.
I know what they want. At least I think I do. We all want the same thing.
We want the surging, white frothed waves of the ocean to wash away our fears and the memory of what happened in our recent memories. For a few seconds, maybe, it succeeds. Maybe it should succeed as the worries of past families lives were optimistically worked through until the worry became a memory of time lost.
A smile comes to my face when I remember a sign that was posted in front of a church. It read, "Worry is an imagination that has gone astray." I believe it is time to replace worry with dreams and to right our imaginations to make these dreams come true.
Jim Fabiano is a teacher and writer living in York, Maine
Maine Publisher's Association Best weekly column award for 2004
Recipient of Theodore William Richards Award for excellence in teaching secondary school science for 2007.
Email Jim: james.fabiano60@gmail.com
