Maybe it is because I grew up in the country, amid cornfields, where the signs of nature and changing seasons were best seen in the flowers, leaves, and cornstalks.
Maybe it is because my dad was in the Navy during WW II and often talked of his adventures on the Destroyer Escort in the Pacific.
Maybe it is because I used to sit on the banks of the Ohio River when we lived in Mt. Vernon, IN for those 10 years and dream of what was on the other side. We didn't have a boat of any kind, and there were not bridges or roads leading to shores that we could see. All we knew was that it was Kentucky and we "couldn't get there from here."
For whatever reason the ocean has fascinated me. I can sit for hours, gazing at the waves, listening to the gulls, and watching the walkers along the beach.
One particular poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow has always been a favorite. Actually it is one that I taught as part of a pair. One was written by Henry as a youth, when all of the word seemed so large and attainable, even from his limited viewpoint. The other was written as an older man, one who knew what happened in life, no illusions, only reality. He didn't know about the internet or Facetime or texting and the quickness of communication. But he did know about the ocean. And the tides. And life.
"The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls" is an example of what happens in our lives as we grow. In a nutshell as we journey along we make our marks, set our records, and hope our names will be remembered. In reality more of an 'out of sight, out of mind' presences hits home. Marks are erased, records are broken, and names are forgotten. The lone traveler in the poem makes his marks along the shore by leaving his footprints (his marks, his records, his name) but as he continues to walk and time goes one, those marks are slowly erased until the vanish.
One morning during spring break week, I opened the living room curtains in the condo, slid open the door to the balcony and stepped out to see this:
If you can't see it well, the words written in the sand read "I heart Aly!" and there is a little postscript to the bottom left that reads ~Bry.
How sweet! I hope that Ali awoke to see those words written in the sand by the love of her life! As I watched, I saw several people notice the large letters. One lady walked to each one, bent down to peer at the strokes, and stepped carefully over each part of the sentiment. Another runner kept true to her path and ran through the middle of the message. I was curious as to how the writer actually stroked those letters so flawlessly and so uniformly in the sand and wondered when he actually inscribed the message. In the dark of night? Early morning hours?
Later in the day after my husband and I returned from visiting Murrell's Inlet, walking the boardwalk there, and enjoying huge burgers at River City Café, I went to the balcony to check on the message.
Gone. Nothing there except sand. No evidence of a single word of the sweet sentiment.
Just like in Longfellow's poem, the tide rose, the tide fell, and the message was erased from the sand, never to be seen again.
Was it pointless to take the time and make the effort for the young man (I assume) to inscribe a message of love to his girlfriend or wife? Absolutely not. By the same token, just because our marks may be eventually erased, should we not try to make them? Of course not!
Longfellow had a message in "Psalm of Life" that as young people we are meant to make our marks in society, to strive to do our best. Even though as an older man he felt his 'marks' were going to be erased and ultimately forgotten, he overlooked one thing. His poetry was full of life. Just the fact that many students read it today is evidence of that.
Will other young men grab a stick and carve a message of love in the sand this week? Next month? A few years from now? Of course. Will that message eventually be erased by the tide? Surely it will. But that doesn't mean that it isn't important, that it shouldn't be said.
The tide rises...the tide falls....
