58. Ocean
I love to learn things. I’ve mentioned before that one of my favorite parts about the writing experience was the time I spent researching. Even as a kid, I liked learning stuff. When I did my weekly trip to the bookmobile to get my hands on the newest Nancy Drew, I’d also grab a book on whatever suited my fancy. Maybe I’d check out a book on flowers one week, and the next week follow up with a book on photosynthesis, which led me to something about horticulture, and then maybe to botany. I didn’t read the entire books — I’m not that much of a dweeb – but I followed my own system. First, I’d look at the pictures and read whatever was written beneath them. I learned lots of useful information that way. Then, if I wanted a more detailed understanding of the subject matter, I’d check the number of pages per chapter — let’s say there were 12 — I’d read the first two pages and the last two pages (the introduction and the conclusion of the pertinent information about the chapter), then I’d move along.
I was reading for fun, And this was my idea of fun.
Remember Donna Rosetti, my friend who knew everything about everything and kicked my ass in every game of Trivial Pursuit we ever played — well, she could do that because when she checked out a book from a library, you can bet your ass she read it cover to cover — even though she was not a dweeb — in fact, Donna was the coolest person I ever knew.
Anyway, as I was saying, way back when, I was a bit of a bookworm and would read long after Marchrie deemed her bed clear of spiders and had come in for her landing. I’d wait for lights out, push my pillows against the headboard, grab a little flashlight I kept next to my bed and do a bit of reading or playing dictionary until I fell asleep — okay, I guess I wasn’t a bit of a bookworm, I was a nerd.
I’ve often described myself as ‘a wealth of useless information’ — the ‘wealth’ being useful only when playing Trivial Pursuit, but let’s face it, in the day to day chit-chat of life, it matters little that I know the crap that fills my head. BUT, when I write my stories, the bits and bobs of information and push and pull of my desires find their way into my characters’ lives.
Take Kitt Mahoney for instance — she is the central character in Bullet Bungalow — the one so connected to the ocean that she sees it as an essential part of her life. To her, it’s as essential as the air she breathes. The ocean — the Atlantic ocean — the part of the Atlantic Ocean that plays with the piece of shoreline she owns — owns her soul.
Kitt gets that from me.
There is nothing that I love more or need more than the sight, sound, and smell of the ocean. As you know, Wells Beach is my most favorite place — my most favorite beach. The trip from Worcester to Maine takes about two hours. It’s a straightforward highway romp: I-290 E, I-495 N, I-95 N, a trip across the Piscataqua Bridge and onto ‘All Points Maine’ highway system.
It's when I read that sign that I begin feeling IT. The call of the ocean. Then, as soon as we pull off the highway system, we power down the car windows and — wait for it — wait for it — wait for it — “Ahhhhh, there it is, the smell of the ocean, off in the distance, but close enough to seep deep.” Everything from that point on is intuitive — our return to Wells is imprinted in our DNA — much like the migratory return of swallows from their winter home in Argentina to their summer home at the Mission of San Juan Capistrano — or the flit of North American hummingbirds between their southern wintering grounds and northern breeding grounds — instinctive, natural, inborn.
Triumphant annual returns — for the sparrows, the hummingbirds, and the OBs.
As soon as we turn onto Mile Road off the main drag through Wells, an internal happy dance begins. There’s a sitting more upright in the seats, a lean forward into the trip, an uptick of excitement in our voices, and the release of the expectant, “Ahhhhh,” when we pass through areas of marshland, the low-lying, transitional zone between land and water. There are lots of reasons to look at the marshland — it is a very pretty extension of ocean topography, but truth be told, there’s only one thing said when the OBs see the marshes, “The tide is in — OR — the tide is out.”
No sooner is that declaration made than the Atlantic Ocean appears and captures my attention and owns my soul.
Sidestep. It is just past 2 AM. I woke from a sleep with a headache, nothing to be concerned about, just a headache, but still, it needed an OTC. I grabbed one from my nightstand drawer at about the same time the rodent decided to do a bit of gnawing at my right shin. From somewhere in the recesses of my brain I remembered a rodent is also called a shrew (a small insectivorous mammal resembling a mouse, with a long pointed snout and tiny eyes). I chuckled at a thought that skittered through my brain. So, here it is, my dear blogosphere friends, we are going a bit Shakespearean with something I’m calling——
The Naming of the Shrew.
Have fun naming the bane of my existence. The cancer nibbling and gnawing rodent.
I look forward to reading your FB posts!
Back to the sidestep. I figured I may as well take a pain pill with the OTC. The pill popping and water slurping process woke me just enough that I knew it’d take a few minutes to settle in. I sooooo did not want to check the happenings on the Hallmark Channel, so I opened a blank doc and typed the word ocean. Not sure why, but here we are.
Why?
That’s an interesting question. Why am I fascinated with, pulled helplessly to, and controlled by the ocean? Millions of people are drawn to it, and I’m sure countless of them feel the way I do — the ocean is a life source — their life force.
Time for some research. Because, why not.
The ocean is a huge body of saltwater that covers about 71 percent of Earth’s surface. The planet has one global ocean, though oceanographers and the countries of the world have traditionally divided it into four distinct regions: the Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, and Arctic oceans.
An estimated 97 percent of the world’s water is found in the ocean, and as such, it has considerable impact on weather, temperature, and the food supply of humans and other organisms. Despite its size and impact on every organism on Earth, the ocean remains a mystery. More than 80 percent of the ocean has never been mapped, explored, or even seen by humans. A far greater percentage of the surfaces of the moon and the planet Mars have been mapped and studied than has our own ocean floor — though oceanographers have made some amazing discoveries. For example, we know that the ocean contains towering mountain ranges and deep canyons, known as trenches, just like those on land. The peak of the world’s tallest mountain — Mount Everest in the Himalaya, measuring 5.49 miles high — would not even break the surface of the water if it was placed in the Pacific Ocean’s Mariana Trench or Philippine Trench, two of the deepest parts of the ocean.
On the other hand, the Atlantic Ocean is relatively shallow because large parts of its seafloor are made up of continental shelves, parts of which extend far out into the ocean, leaving the average depth of the Atlantic at 12,200 feet.
https://www.nationalgeographic.org/encyclopedia/ocean
Hmm. I knew some of that, but I learned some stuff. So, time well spent.
We know what the ocean is, so let’s see why I and millions of others are controlled by the ocean’s pull. On our way to finding that answer, let’s take a look at ocean-related folklore. There are ample myths, traditions, and legends from every country whose shorelines meet the gentle lap or turbulent crash of sea water. There’s plenty of folklore from the New England coastlines, so let’s start there.
It’s unlucky to begin a voyage on a Friday. “Didn’t know that.” Friday is considered an unlucky day on land as well as at sea. “Didn’t know that.” Friday is considered unlucky because it was the day of the crucifixion. “Huh — well, okay then.”
Seafaring people of long ago were a superstitious lot. They and their vessels were at the mercy of Mother Nature with no weather forecast or communication capabilities. They relied on a fair amount of luck, BUT they also worked overtime not to spit in the face of fate. Believe you me, there were and are lots of things sailors and fishermen will and will not do.
Men boarding vessels emptied their pockets of pennies or else they prepared themselves for a small catch. Under no circumstances would men bring bananas onto their ship. “Huh, no explanation given on that one. Maybe a fear of slipping on a peel and falling overboard? Yeup, I’m going with that.” Nothing could be eaten until the first fish of the day was caught. “Probably a strategy to get onto the ocean bright and early.” And the first caught fish of the day needed to be spit upon and thrown back into the ocean. “Haven’t a clue.” A shoulder shrug — a yawn — an assessment, “Nope, still not tired enough. Keep reading.” The location of a good haul was never spoken about, nor a fishing boat taken to sea seven days straight. “According to this, the gods of the ocean looked down on greed, but apparently, they were perfectly fine with spitty-fish. Wonder why? — I bet Donna Rosetti knew this shit.”
Flowers weren’t welcome aboard a ship because of their association with funerals. If they were smuggled aboard and found, they were immediately tossed over the sides. Clergymen weren’t welcome onboard for the same reason, “Huh, I wonder if they were tossed into the drink, too?” I mumbled and chuckled.
Sharks following a ship were thought to be harbingers of death, “Yeah, well, they’re sharks. Duh.” If someone died aboard a ship, over he went, BUT only after a bit of shroud affixing and needle-poking through the mate’s nose to make sure there was no pain-sensory left. “Apparently, the nostrils are a sensitive area. I guess if no ‘what the eff’ spewed forth then a mighty old heave ho into the splash took place. Could’a done without that bit of knowledge.”
Sailors had a fatalistic view of drowning, “Well, duh! From a statistical standpoint, that stands to reason. I bet drowning was high on the Cause of Death list for sailors and fishermen. Even Sheryll Bodine gets that one.” And if a sailor fell overboard a rope might not be tossed to aid him because it was accepted by the crew that his death was preordained, “More like, premeditated murder, if you ask me. The ‘no rope rule’ probably explains the sailors’ fatalistic view of drowning.”
Only a ship’s bell was allowed on board and used only to signal the changing of watch duties. If the bell rang of its own accord, it was feared someone was going to die. “My guess, the dude who rang it.” Ebb tides were thought to hasten death — ebbing away the gravely ill or wounded. “Finally, something that makes sense.” Men carrying the name Jonah were not allowed on ships — nor were ships allowed to be named Jonah. Period. “Okay, got it.”
Birds were protected by the seafarers as it was thought they carried the souls of dead sailors back to land. Therefore, killing a bird was b.a.d. l.u.c.k. “Probably why there are sooooo many gulls around.”
The folklore included a whole lot more of shit bad luck stuff for the sea-loving man: stepping aboard a ship with your left foot first, or losing a bucket overboard, or saying the words, ‘drown’ or ‘pig’ while at sea, or swearing while fishing. “Huh, I think I’ve heard, ‘step right, maties’ — I wonder if that referred to the leading foot ……. and who the hell hasn’t lost a bucket at sea — hell I’ve lost them from the damned shoreline ……. and how else would you explain the missing dude other than to say he drowned ……. and who the eff hasn’t sworn while fishing?”
I scrolled up and reread whatever this mess is and was left with this — “That’s one hell of a long list of unluckies. Was anything allowed or, dare I ask, considered lucky?” A bit more research, “Yeup — in the luck department. Tattoos. Black cats onboard. Tossing a pair of old shoes overboard. That’s it. —— I wonder if extra lucky points were given if the shoes being tossed over belonged to the mate who slipped on a banana peel in his socken-feet and drowned because his mates wouldn’t toss him a rope and his pockets were full of pennies that weighted him down? And, BTW —— toss him his shoes — yeup — toss him a rope — nope. A bit harsh. Ah, the life of a sailor.”
There are countless other things about rain before seven being done by eleven, and clapping onboard causes thunder, and, and, and. I could go on, and on, and on, but who has the time —— Not I —— so I’ll wrap this stuff up with the two most widely known sayings for the seafarer and the beachgoer alike.
Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailors take delight.
So, off we go now to the point of this ramble. Actually, sleep beckons, so I’m going to close my eyes and get back to this when the sun and I get up for the day.
Good morning! I’ve had my morning pills, I am sufficiently caffeinated, and I had a lovely apricot danish for breakfast. All's right with the world — my world, anyway. I’m going to ease back into this ramble about why I love the ocean. For the record, I know I’m in very good company — millions of people feel the way I do about the ocean, so the next part of the blog might interest a few of them.
Before I nodded off, I found this website: The Waters You’re Drawn To Reveal Secrets About Your Personality. Right off, the author reminds or informs the reader that water makes up 60% of the human body, and therefore, it makes perfect sense that we are connected to and fascinated by the ever-changing element. Then the author, Cassandra Morris, jumps into the deep end with a personality test —— you watch a somewhat hypnotic video of the ocean with the sounds of waves and piano music in the background. She suggests you clear your mind and just watch and listen for a bit. Then, for some unknown reason you are asked to look at a picture of sea shells laid out on sand and count the number of spiral ones and keep that number in your head. I did it, but I have no idea why I did it. Then, you are shown pictures of different bodies of water: ocean, lake, river, waterfall, pond, and others, from which you are to choose your favorite.
And voilà — your water personality floats to the top.
There should be no surprise what body of water I chose.
The Calm Ocean
By being drawn to the peaceful ocean, you reveal yourself to be a gentle, comforting, giving soul with a sensitive nature. You are very compassionate and warm, and you're eager to bring joy to those around you. You work hard and value responsibility, but you love nothing more than to let your hair down and have fun. You are very empathetic and compassionate, and you feel everything with your whole heart.
You are something of a mystery to most people. One half of you is charismatic and bubbly, while the other half is introverted and quiet; sometimes you're adventuresome and eager to explore, while other times you're happy to stay home and enjoy the quiet. But one thing about you is for certain: you never make a promise you can't keep, and you always give everything your all.
By choosing the calm ocean — the symbol of distance, change, and cycles — this signifies that you will soon embark on a special trip. Whether it be physical or spiritual travel, you will be visited by the opportunity to expand your horizons and explore personally uncharted territory. If you embrace this chance, your life will be transformed in a very unexpected — and rewarding — way.
And just for fun, I chose a second one.
The Placid Lake
If you were drawn to the peaceful lake, this reveals that you have a calm, down-to-earth, and outgoing soul. Though you're not quite a social butterfly, you're happy to meet new people and expand your horizons. You always feel most at peace when surrounded by nature, and you have respect for all forms of life. You are genuine and warm, and you enjoy bringing happiness to the people you love.
Because you're so incredibly giving and compassionate, you'd happily give someone in need the shirt off your back. You're also the first people turn to when they need help — either spiritual or material. You are humble and hard-working. You are a salt of the earth person with a very kind heart.
Since you chose the calm lake — the symbol of strength, honor, and dependability — you will soon be entrusted with a big responsibility, one that will yield many wonderful things. You might not feel suited to the task at first, but just know that no one could do this job better than you. It will be so worth it.
https://littlethings.com/lifestyle/water-personality-test
There are lots of things that I identify with in both summaries. Some are spot on about who I am as an individual, BUT a couple of lines in each narrative could not be more personally relevant:
By choosing the calm ocean — the symbol of distance, change, and cycles — this signifies that you will soon embark on a special trip. Whether it be physical or spiritual travel, you will be visited by the opportunity to expand your horizons and explore personally uncharted territory. I’m guessing this could mean my passing. Thoughts, anyone?
By choosing the calm lake — you will soon be entrusted with a big responsibility, one that will yield many wonderful things. You might not feel suited to the task at first, but just know that no one could do this job better than you. It will be so worth it. I’m guessing this could mean my blog writing. Thoughts, anyone?
You know and I know these little tests are for entertainment value only. This water test lived up to its end — it was entertaining. The thing that I find interesting, however, is this: I found the test because —— I woke at 2 AM and couldn’t get back to sleep. I couldn’t work on the blog I started writing yesterday because it’s about the many wonderful cards and letters I’ve received, and the box I keep them in is across the room from me and I’m not allowed to meander to them. So, I opened a new document and without any thought at all, typed the word Ocean. One thing led to another and I ended up taking a water personality test — because why not, right?
Kinda feels like all of it was meant to be.
And this next part is the only thing that I knew for sure would be included in this blog.
For months, friends and family have been sending me picture texts of the ocean. Guru Jessica has built a special place for them on my website (it’s really quite lovely, and you might consider taking a look). Several people have taken the time to record and send to me videos of the rolling surf. Kathy sends frequent videos from Florida, and Helena sent one from the Cape, and Sheila sent one from somewhere in Maine, and Debbie sent one from Florida, and Guru sent one from Mexico, and Jo, Marjorie, Nicole, Hannah and Jessica all sent videos from Wells.
Each and every recording is very special to me and I’ve played them on more than one occasion. But the video that I play over and over and over again is the one that came attached to this text: Taking you on a little walk on Wells Beach this morning. Hopefully this doesn’t make you dizzy, if it does, look up.
Then, for the next two minutes, Joyce McTigue and I walked the shoreline, together. The ocean rolled gently in, breaking at the end with a little froth. Swaths of wispy clouds cut the perfectly blue sky, and pebbles and shells littered here and there. The only sounds were the waves crashing and the gulls calling.
It was the absolute perfect way to spend my time. With my friend.
On my beach. At my ocean.