Olden days at the beach

Saturday 14 February 2009

This is St Valentine's Day but neither Jessy nor I has a date so we are doing our own thing here at the beach house on Long Beach Island. Last night we slept in our Colonial-costume shifts in our old bedroom here on the third floor. Jessy and I shared a room when we were in England and sharing again with her here reminds me of that. When our classmates, especially the boarding girls, would come over to the house we rented in Norwich, our room was little different than the typical HOH room, with too much of our stuff crowded in and the walls full of posters and photos. This room here is a little more genteel, though it is on the third floor and has a terrific view down the Island and across towards the Bay. That means it's on the cold side, but we weren't chilly last night.

This morning dawned lovely. Down in the kitchen I made a fire and heated water for tea. We made oatmeal and did a bit of homework (meaning Jessy went on the computer) and then we got dressed, in our other Colonial outfits, as we would wear for working at Mommy's 18th-century-themed ice-cream parlour. When the fire was out we went down to the street, and over the dunes to the beach.

Of course this is the off-season and the place was deserted. But it is a Saturday and you'd be surprised how many people eventually turn up. Today was bright and breezy, not quite comfortable enough for no coats, and we wore our long woollen ones with scarves. In our old-fashioned booties and long skirts we were not uncomfortable at all. Luckily we both have experience walking this beach in heels!

It is some blocks up the beach to the street where the ice-cream parlour is. I typed in the pass-codes for the alarm and we went through the whole place, checking up on whatever Daddy said to check up on. The computer here is tied to the same network as the ones at home and the one at the beach house and the ones in Lewes. We sent Daddy a memo on the condition of the store, the ice-cream parlour, and the three apartments, and he responded almost immediately. 'Be careful,' he sent to us.

We typed back, 'We will. We love you!'

It was only eleven then, Jessy had an idea and so we helped ourselves to two books from the store and two chairs from where the outside ones are stored, and we carried it all back up to the beach and situated ourselves there to read. The outside chairs at the ice-cream parlour are authentic wooden ladderbacks with rush seats, precisely what would have been found in a small but tasteful tavern in about 1750. In the beach they sank in pretty far, but again this was no different than we would have done 250 years ago. If we were sitting in chairs on the beach back then, these would have been the chairs we would have had to sit in. So we made do.

In a book we have at the beach house there is a lovely photograph, taken from the top of a water tower, of Beach Haven in about 1880. Whenever we are at this house I can stare at that picture for eons. It's in black-and-white of course, but the houses still look grey and well weathered, surrounded by sandy yards inside paintless picket fences and always with the small barn, like a garage, standing out back for the chickens and pigs. There in the photo is a tavern with a front verandah, the police or lifesavers' station, and the schoolhouse-- how I wish I could have taught there then! It would have been Miss Janine as the school-madam and twelve or fifteen boys and girls, up to about age 13, after which they would have gone to work. I would have taught them spelling and maths and reading and history. Science would have been tending a garden and studying the ocean. People would queue up to use the outhouse. We would have had lunch from a pot on the wood-stove and the elder ones would have helped the little ones. I would have made sure they all washed hands first. The little ones would have naps at 2.00. As it got dark round 4.00 or 4.30, the older boys would sweep the floor and the girls would stack all the books. Then I would let them all go with a kiss on the head and they would run home to tell their parents both of them) all about what they had learnt today.

That's what I dream of when I think about a teaching career. The closest it's ever come to reality for me was when Mother (our young stepmother) home-schooled us when we were still at Lewes. We used to wear these Colonial clothes (even her) and have lunch off the fire, just like that. It was education coming from love... the way it always should be.

Jessy and I sat in our well-settled chairs in the sand and read. I had chosen 'The Lovely Bones'. I have seen it many times but had not got a chance to read it till today. Jessy read a book called 'Everlost'. I have not looked into that one yet, but she keeps telling me about it, so I suppose I shall.

We saw a few people stroll by who waved to us. There was one dog. There really is no ordinance against dogs on the beach in the off-season, but their masters are responsible for cleaning up after them. The one time I have seen a dog leave a mess on the beach, the people were content to leave it there. I was younger then, of course, but I called out to remind them of their responsibility, and the man just said, 'It won't matter much.' I put my hands on my hips and scowled at him till he took a few steps back and kicked sand over the mess. I am sure it really did not matter much after all, but I hate to see people assuming they have some right to be an exception to the rules.

We carried the chairs back to the beach house and sat on the porch there and went on reading. I heated some water, this time on the cooker (stove, sorry) and we sat out there sipping our tea till we were cold enough to go in. Jessy had wanted to go for a ride up the Island, but now she decided on a bath and went up stairs. I put down 'The Lovely Bones' and lay on the sofa in the parlour, with all my Colonial gear on and all the draperies wide open to the ocean sky. I really do think I would like to live here in future. Jessy and I know that Daddy (and Mother too) will eventually agree to endow us each with a house. Between us she and I have decided that she will have Lewes, where Mommy's ashes are interred, and I will have this place. Lisa and J.J. are too young for us to be concerned with them yet, but Jessy and I are agreed that Lisa can have Terncote and J.J. can have... the boat or whatever else. It does not matter what. We'll always have enough room to visit each other and, in the case of this little house, my visitors can stay at the apartments over the ice-cream parlour and the book store. I am sure my husband would not mind living at the beach so much. And if I do not marry, which seems likely anyway, I will grow old here and write my novels like a good little eccentric spinster... like Jane Austen... or Emily Dickinson.

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