Moonlight Beach

Checked out Moonlight Beach, Encinitas, CA last evening:  Yep, it was still there! Even after the lock-down.

People were milling about with no particular reason, except that the beach was open... even though the parking lots were closed so you couldn’t easily access it.  (Passive aggressive control, don’t you know.)  Lots of young and old, adorned in signature black wetsuits, were carrying their boards, coming and going, as surfing was ok. 

Families came with their kids just to experience the freedom:  it was like the free entrance to a street happening.   Teenagers were everywhere dodging yellow caution tape wrapped around seats to prohibit sitting – forced social distancing.  Some visitors were wearing masks, kerchiefs and bandanas, all types of styles and colors.  And some weren’t.

The lifeguard tower’s loudspeaker droned on as the sky darkened from the fading day: “Keep moving, stay six feet apart.  Don’t loiter or you’ll lose your privilege to use the beach.  Only use the beach for exercise.  Keep walking or running.  No Stopping!”  Something eerie about being instructed by a faceless person on how to use a public beach. 

The thick marine layer draped heavily over the beach and out over the reddish-colored surf, beyond the horizon, was a thin line of yellow sky beckoning.   It was way out there.  How far?  Not sure.  But there was hope that maybe an awesome sunset would reward those watching while surfers carved in and out on small waves in celebration of the lifting of restrictions.

Walking down the beach, people acted like it was their first visit.  They were amazed at seaweed being pushed onto the beach with each in-coming wave.  Kids kicked up freshly soaked sand, rinsed with salt water, which stuck to their toes  Some were in awe of the small stacks of beach stones balanced on each other set up on a ledge under the overhanging bluff which leaked water like the spray from a rain forest. Cellphone cameras where being used to record selfies and babies in dim light even as a breeze cooled the beach.

Finally, that distant strip of yellow light began changing colors and the tip of an orange ball began to emerge.  Some stopped to look in reverence, others kept up their cadence without a glance.  The sun broke through the dense marine layer and magnified its glow which spilled all the way to the water’s edge.  And two surfers passed by with nary a glance; maybe they have seen it so many times, it didn’t register, as they made their way past an old, dead piece of driftwood.

But the for the moment, it was like discovering the magnificence of a first sunset.  It had a freshness and brilliance to it which roused the spirit.  The gift has always been there for the taking; even a lockdown or a plague can’t wipe it out.

     

On A Beach Bench

On A Beach Bench

Her toes moving sand,
Beaches empty and bland,
Seat cold and lonely,
Now occupied solely.

Yellow tape and COVID warning,
Cops all about and roving,
She braves the fleeting moment,
With just a bit of resentment.

Something here is missing,
No one is smiling or beaming,
Here she sits in loneliness,
No co-sharing the coziness.

Compelled lock-down now forced,
And social distances reinforced,
The snitch line is buzzing lively,
With sniveling souls abusively.

What is wrong with this solitude,
Observing nature with gratitude,
Not in a negative state,
Hoping the virus won’t dominate.

After the sun sets,
And the darkness onsets,
The beach bench will be vacant,
And her heart will still be defiant.

Lonely and Homeless

“Lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely
I have nobody for my own
Oh, I'm so lonely…..”

That song came to mind as I watched “Birdman,” a homeless person in the community lean on the cold rail near the beach and stare out over the Pacific Ocean at a recent sunset before the local police began giving tickets for watching it from your car!  How many sunsets has “Birdman” seen over his lifetime as he hangs around familiar territory?  What was it in his life that led to his predicament?  Mental illness?  Addiction?  Adjustment disorders?

He pointed out the rocks below and reminisced that he began sleeping on them at nights when he was sixteen years old.  He felt safe down there, he said.  But on this night, he was hoping for a motel room which the town was giving to some of the community homeless due to the spread of the COVID19.  He wasn’t sure he would qualify. He could no longer get down to the beach… it was closed.

Homelessness and loneliness go together.  His challenge is similar to ours:  he worries about food, clothing and shelter.  But his worry – and those like him – is daily.  Most of us are holding in place, hunkered down but with food, clean clothing and shelter.  That may change as the government inflicted shutdown continues and people lose their jobs and livelihoods. 

He doesn’t work so the lay-offs and shuttered businesses aren’t his concern.  Sort of.  But still, it is a dilemma because no one is on the streets to give him a handout.  Some of the local restaurants which feed the local homeless out the back door, are closed.  The social services are limited due to the pandemic and people of good will are confined to their homes.

The chronic homeless like “Birdman” are out there on the streets.  They may not be in our neighborhoods but look around, you’ll see them.  They aren’t going away; their numbers may grow as this pandemic lingers. 

“Birdman” is just one story out there.