Beach

One of the more pleasurable aspects about the Northeast is the vibrant, beautiful beach culture. I've written about it before—the history and ocean lifestyle, but somehow the mention of it still surprises people. Why? New York is surrounded by water, connected by bridges and tunnels that go over and under water, so why is it mysterious and surprising that we swim in the water around us?

We are part of the original colonies along the Eastern seaboard. I'm not sure how much clearer I can be about this fact, so let's try basic math. Here's the official Wiki entry: "The state constitution was enacted in 1777. New York became the 11th state to ratify the United States Constitution, on July 26, 1788." OK, so I did the numbers and that comes out to 224 years officially, with the actual European discovery coming in at 1604: "New York was inhabited by various tribes of Algonquian and Iroquoian speaking Native American tribes at the time Dutch settlers moved into the region in the early 17th century. In 1609, the region was first claimed by Henry Hudson for the Dutch." We know that Native Americans inhabited the land prior to European discovery for millennia. 

So. Why all this willful ignorance? It comes from a place outside of understanding, and that's called programming and bigotry. After all, if you get the facts down right, how can the mythic Californian Dream be sold to you? No more slow motion Baywatch Babes (homogenous and comforting with their dyed blonde hair, fake boobs, and spray tans), no Playboy Enterprise that sells those same women back to you again, this time without their bathing suits on, no running away to a place that supposed to make you forget who you are. All that stuff is advertising and marketing from billion dollar industries, so if I dismantle it with actual information, well, you can see how truly threatening that could be to those industries. And they will do everything to convince you otherwise.

Then there's the actual reality of the Atlantic Ocean itself: it's murky depths, rough currents, and harsh seasons. There's no prepackaged Club Med vacation here with servants, faux palm beach umbrellas, and frilly coconut drinks within a temperature-controlled climate that's permanently set to 85°, like the thermostat at home. It's a comforting and safe experience that's boring and devoid of any actual discoveries. Unlike a bland vacation, my ocean is real and unpredictable and it is the ocean, unrelenting. Must be scary to a population fed a steady diet of false realities. 

Our water is cold in the winter and warm in the summer and none of that has anything to do with you. Mother Nature is unpredictable to humans, and it always has been. I know mentally ill people who are addicted to The Weather Channel in some crazy and stressful show down with the earths' forces. They fear it, but they also enjoy the thrill of being scared: it's a build up and release of tension, something every fetishist and neurotic knows well. They are not in control. She is.

Once again, it becomes about who they are and their problems, rather than the simple pleasure of a swim in the briny sea. But, I have none of that static. I love the water, I love the beach, I love swimming, and I always will. I enjoy each landscape for what it brings to me, and I am grateful for it. A Montréal friend asked me about a status update I posted about the sea. I wrote about the smell of the ocean coming in off the blowzy breeze that advents a rain storm, a pleasurable experience for us here. 

He commented on this commonplace occurrence with disbelief. How could I smell the ocean when it was so "far away"? Far away?! I wrote back to him, after looking up the actual distance online, that it is 7 miles from my location to the ocean. SEVEN. MILES. And that was more than he could take in, because it doesn't fit in with his idea of Brooklyn as it is presented on t.v. and in movies. Sad, but also surreal, right? Wouldn't that make you feel discomfited and odd, like I do?

So. Here it is. My gift from me to you: the 25 minute subway ride to the beach at Coney Island, for a brief dip in the ocean with a little bit of body boarding thrown in for kicks. We can't wait to meet you, to see you enjoying our gifts, too. Welcome to the beaches of New York City. Welcome home. 
Welcome back. Welcome.