No Fish, but a More Than Fine Time

On Friday I was peaceful and content. Peaceful and content are a rare state for me that can only be achieved away from home. It's generally not the people at home that mess with my sense of well-being, it's my to do list.

My good feelings began on Thursday night when I sang a 90-minute solo concert en route to Waretown, New Jersey. Sometimes I enjoy driving alone just for the musical performance. When I arrived in Waretown at the B-Hive (a.k.a. the cottage), my parents were happy to see me. My parents are always happy to see me. Visiting my parents is like coming home to a dog without the licking, shedding, and crapping in the yard.

Friday night was a treat because my dad talked to me, and not just about taking the turns more slowly to save tire tread. No, my dad actually opened up and expressed his frustration at the infernal ringing in his ears and losing his hearing and how maddening it is to try to have a conversation with people when you have no idea what they're saying. We talked about a variety of topics and both fell asleep before we saw the Phillies lose. A nice way to spend the evening. [As a side note I'd like to warn you all away from Miracle Ear. You can take $6,000 and throw it away and get the same results my dad has had with Miracle Ear. It's a miracle he hasn't throttled the person who sold them to him.]

On Saturday morning we woke early at the B-Hive and headed to the marina to board the Wakakida, Dad's 22' Grady White. Our objective? Flounder. We slowly made our way through the wake-free zone until we reached Barnegat Bay and discovered complete serenity. The water as smooth as glass. The sun still in the process of rising. A line of non-threatening clounds hovering just above the horizon like a half-open window shade teasing at the treasures that lay beyond. Only a few other boats off in the distance. Boater's perfection.

What could possibly make the morning even better? How about a whale? Yep. A whale less than a mile off Barnegat Light. Breaching, spraying water out of its blowhole. An exciting first for me. You know what else makes a fishing trip memorable? Catching fish. I caught nada. Not a throw back. Not even a skate or a sea robin. Mom and Dad both caught nice 20-inchers, enough for me to bring home to feed my family. Yes, Mom and Dad are good to me.

The highlight of the trip? Clamming with my dad. We anchored the boat in about 3' of not nearly warm enough water in Barnegat Bay and slogged our way about a half mile till we reached the muck. The muck is where you find the clams. I'm not a fan of the muck, but I am a fan of my dad. And as I watched him drag his clamming rack along the bottom of the bay, it struck me that families have been doing just this for hundreds of years. Albeit without my dad's handcrafted stainless steel rake and the pool noodles being used to keep the bushel afloat. And as it occurred to me that this was a moment I'd never forget, my dad said "This is something you can always remember." And he recalled clamming 50+ years ago with his dad down near Beach Haven. They rented a small boat from Snuggery's Dock for $12 a day. It was $14 if you wanted one with a top on it.

My dad and I both have lived too much of our lives in a pretty dark place, but Friday was filled with light, literally and figuratively. My dad laughed and smiled and seemed more genuinely happy than I've seen him in a long, long time. I believe there's something about the wind and the water that breaks through whatever heaviness is weighing you down and blows away the cobwebs and the clouds that sometimes surround our hearts. 

Where do you find restoration and renewal? 

What brings you joy? 

In whose company do you find peace?