Getting Old

Sunbathing at the beach has not changed much since the summers I would go to Venice Beach or the Marina Del Rey shore. The only real difference is me. I’m forty years older, overweight, and incredibly white. Other than me, the seashore is still populated by the same people, young and old, doing the same things: sitting, talking, sunning, reading, sleeping, walking, playing, surfing, boogie boarding, digging, burying, building, and swimming. What makes these activities so enjoyable is the overwhelming sense of comfort and bliss one feels when they are bye the sea. One is in the midst of a natural wonder; the primordial ocean.

I am still struck by the beauty of the young people who migrate to the beaches for the summer. The boys, girls, women, and men who come to disrobe in public are, for the most part, physically attractive. Although there are always exceptions, seaside sunbathing does not attract the obese, grotesque, or physically ugly people. I really enjoy looking at these youthful Adonis’s and Venus’s, both for their beauty and the nostalgia they elicit. Alas, Kathy and I were like that once, but no longer.