Lora and I took a vacation to Myrtle Beach last week with my daughter, my son-in-law, and two granddaughters. Here is how the week went.
On day one, we all slept late, got up, and sat on the balcony overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, relaxing to the warm breeze and the ocean waves. Everybody ventured down to the beach or the pool for a while at various times.
Around mid to late afternoon, we explored places to eat, then returned to the balcony and sat late into the evening, and then strolled along the beach at dusk, enjoying the breeze and the ocean.
On days two, three, four and five, we repeated day one.
Lora mentioned at some point that it was nice vacationing with my daughter and her family, because “we all seem to have the same rhythm.” That is true. The rhythm could be called “comatose.”
We talked about doing a lot of things during the week, like attending some of the various shows or visiting some of the many attractions. And then we just stayed on the balcony or went down to the beach or the pool.
During the week, while staring at the ocean, or the clear blue afternoon sky, or the bright nighttime stars, we were afforded a lot of time to think about life and the mysteries of the universe.
I didn’t do any of that. I just relaxed and thought about nothing, which I am good at.
One time, I was on the balcony and saw Lora down on the beach, standing about ankle deep in ocean water and staring across the vast sea. I asked her later if she was pondering deep thoughts and philosophies.
“No,” she shrugged, “I really wasn’t thinking about anything.” Atta girl.
On our first night, we came across a fisherman on the beach who had snagged a baby shark. It looked just like Jaws, except about 10-inches long.
He asked the granddaughters if they wanted to hold it. They didn’t, but I did, and it was amazing how strong and muscular this tiny shark was even at shrink-size. The fisherman eventually threw it back so it could grow up and eat a future swimmer.
We did make it to Barefoot Landing and Broadway at the Beach, but only so we could find places to eat. Some people think Myrtle Beach is too touristy. I do not understand that. I am a tourist, so touristy is fine. I’m a sucker for the “As Seen On TV” stores. Bring ‘em on.
As a Father’s Day gift, my daughter and her husband allowed Lora and me to occupy the master bedroom all week, with a patio door leading onto the balcony. We slept each night with the door open and the sound of the ocean cascading through the room. I slept so soundly people were checking my pulse. Gotta find one of those ocean noise machines.
I read the local paper each day, and the daily headlines reminded me of home. Downtown businesses trying to increase revenue. Red Cross looking for volunteers. Festivals being planned. Street painting project under way. And lots of crime and court news. I wondered if Myrtle Beach folks complained to the paper that so much crime coverage might keep the tourists away.
Of course, the week got off to a great start for me when the San Antonio Spurs won Game 5 of the NBA Finals last Sunday night, denying LeBron James and the Miami Heat another championship. It put me in a good, relaxed mood all week.
That was pretty much the only television I viewed, except for an exciting film called “Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam” on the Disney Channel that I watched with the granddaughters. I still think Camp Rock should have been declared the winner over Camp Star in the final competition of this movie about a “rocking teen paradise.”
Which made me wish I had brought my guitar and sat on the beach crooning “Blue Hawaii” like Elvis. No one else seemed to wish that, but I could bring it next year.
Nah. That would require additional effort, which could put us in danger of breaking up our rhythm.
Gary Abernathy can be reached at 937-393-3456 or on Twitter @abernathygary.