Welcome Home

After 3 days of withdrawal symptoms, I returned to the beach, my natural habitat, yesterday. It seems to have survived without my daily presence. Perhaps Beach patrol Monitor is only a part time job.


Another quiet late afternoon on beach; 16th ave, IRB. A group from Ontario are enjoying a no doubt well deserved vacation. Numerous photos are being taken. As I pack my beach paraphnalia to head home, I offer my photographic services - perhaps they would like a group portrait.

My offer is well received. After some brief instruction on use of the camera, I focus on the shot.

I thought I was descreet when I suggest one of the ladies should move to the back. Perhaps I shouldn't have referred to her as "the chubby one."


I was once again told to (bug) off. I would have been insulted, except they said it with that adorable Canadian accent. It sounded more like an invitation than a curse.




Ah, the gracious neighbors to our north. I love them all. Even the chubby ones, eh?

Dear Mr. Van Morrison

Congratulatons on your recent success; quite a coup, landing the musical guest honor on the premier of the new "Jimmy Fallon Show." (Bobby DeNiro seems to really like you.) And the new album is spectacular! I suppose it is somewhat ego deflating to re-record a forty year old album, but it works. Truth be told, I have no idea what you're singing about on "Astral Weeks." I looked it up in Wikededia - seems no one knows what you're singing about either. No matter; it gives me happy feet. Would you consider re-recording Michael Jackson's "Thriller?"

Great utilization of flutes, strings, even an acoustic bass; no excessive fancy electric guitars for Mr. Van Morrison. But, why such stange lyrics? Why title a song "Madame George" when the actual lyrics refer to "Madame Joy?" Too wierd, but a day without listening to this new CD is simply incomplete. I love it, I love it, I love it. I do believe I'm transcended.

You da man! You are Van the Man! Hey! Remember the time you were on "Letterman," singing a duet with Sinead O"Connor? You practically knocked her over as you tried to share her microphone. Awkward. (But, you're still the "man," albiet the "old man," you Celtic troubador!)

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

WHEN BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE...

The sun still shines, but not as brightly.

The beach still beckons, but not as loudly.

Restless feet have nowhere to go.

Inquisitive minds find no answers.

Laughter is still heard, but it doesn't quite fill the air.

Ponderous thoughts burden the soul.

When bad things happen to good people.

And so it goes..............................................

A Simple Act of Human Kindness

I was on the beach the other day; no surprise. It was late in the afternoon; the crowd had thinned out. I was alone. As I was reading page 110 of "Truman" for the third time, (I don't think I'm going to finish this book) I noticed a young couple looking for something on the beach. (Blogger's senses become very much attuned to our suroundings.) I continued reading as they halted their search, seemingly without success. I noted their failure and decided that I would carefully inspect the beach floor when it was time for me to leave; all part of my responsibilities as self appointed "Sixteenth Avenue Beach Patrol Monitor."

A half hour later, as I just finished page 112 of my book, I started to pack up my things and head home. My eyes, close to the ground because of my height limitations, scoured the sandy beach. I noticed something shiny. I picked it up and went to my beach blanket neighbors.

"Excuse me," I said, "did you lose something?"

"My engagement ring," the sad young woman said.

"Here," I said as I held out my hand in front of her. " I just found this."

"This is a shell," she said.

"Yes," I said. "I hope you like it. Sorry you lost your ring."

"(Bug) off," the young man replied.

An act of human kindness rejected, but I persevere. I continue my lonely life as "Tanner, self appointed temporary Beach Patrol Monitor;" my beat is 16th avenue.