A Lifetime at the Beach
When I was a kid, the beach was an area filled with energy. Howling winds, waves constantly crashing, and the ever-present gulls always on the prowl for an unchecked bagel. Had I not had something to occupy me, I may have gotten dizzy from the sensory overload. The grit of the sand getting all over my feet, and of course the sun. Mercilessly beating down and making it known that sunscreen was in fact a requirement for any beach outing.
As I mentioned earlier, if I wasn’t preoccupied with anything, all of these factors may have gotten to me. But there was always something to do at the beach. There’s always the typical beach fare of sandcastles, volleyball and swimming, but the more often I went, the more new activities I would stumble upon. Body-surfing, boogie boarding, can jam, and kadima (basically ping-pong without a table) just to name a few. I never really understood why anyone, when presented with all of these options, would simply choose to sunbath or just go for a plain old walk along the coast. I felt like it was just a waste of precious beach time.
As an adult, I still see the beach as an area with energy, but not nearly the same energy as a kid. The gentle breeze that can cool you from the sun’s gaze. The crashing waves providing a white noise to drown out the seagulls. I finally understood it now. How could I not want to take a walk, feel the waves at my feet, and just tune out everything? Tune out the sun, the wind, the gulls. I’m here to relax, get away from everything. After all, the only deadline the beach has is that eventually, the sun goes down.
The beach is strange in this aspect. Based on my observations, one could almost define it down to a formula. As time increases, the energy of the beach decreases. But I don’t really believe this is the case. I feel as though the beach itself does not really have a set level of energy, but rather it is reflective of what we feel at the time. An elder that has lived in the mountains or city their whole life would probably have a much different view of the beach than a teen who has experienced many of their formative years at the beach. So while the beach may have it’s own set definition, we all have our own ways of interpreting it.
The Jeeper’s Jungle
I am four, coming on five years old, and I’m celebrating my upcoming birthday with my mother, and some friends from daycare at Jeeper’s Funland, a children’s entertainment center with small rides, arcade games, a ball pit, and a whole host of other activities. I enjoy telling my friends that I am five. Something about being a higher number than them just gives me a certain delight, despite my mother’s insistence that my actual birthday is a few days away, and this is merely a party for me to have with my friends. For whatever reason, this is a foreign concept to me, and I care very little for whatever is going on with my age. All my friends have to know is that I’m five, and therefore I am faster, stronger, and wiser than them until they also hit the magical number of five. Nevermind the fact that in about a year, that cycle will start all over again.
We make our way towards the in house restaurant, a pizza parlor, and there are jungle decorations adorning all of the walls. There is a cartoonish mural, and the smiling faces of the lions and toucans on it all seem so charming to me. The gorilla is front and center. He is bigger and stronger, and looks like a leader when compared to the other animals. I love staring at this mural, especially at the gorilla. The jungle seems like such a mysterious, yet inviting environment for me to visit some day.
We then head for the star attraction at Jeeper’s Funland, the rollercoaster. It’s small, but then again, we are even smaller. Therefore, this is the biggest rollercoaster we will ever know. There is a small five second section of the coaster that goes into a cave area. What’s in the cave is unknown. There are cartoon bats drawn over the cave entrance. They look mischievous, and I don’t think I like them very much. I hate caves. They’re too dark to see anything in, they hold the same mystery as the jungle, but lack any of the charm. Despite this, I brave the roller coaster and make it through the cave, all five seconds of it. Not that I was scared of it however. I couldn’t be. I’m five years old, after all. After several more activities, my mother decides to wrap everything up and take us all home. As we walk out, I notice another indoor ride, a stationary jeep that rocks about as a screen in front takes you through a jungle safari. I beg my mother for one last ride on it, but we are out of time. As we leave, I am left to ponder what that jeep ride through the jungle would have been like, further continuing the mysteries of the jungle.
I am twenty two years old, and I have never been to the jungle. I have been inside a few caves, and they have been less than stellar. Jeeper’s Funland has been closed for years now. I never did go on that jeep ride, further continuing the mysteries of the jungle. So is that all there is? As I get older and older, do mysteries and feelings of the jungle die out as the years trickle on down?
No. As I get older, I explore more. There are new places to see, new things to do, new people to meet, all with their own exciting and mysterious facets of the unknown. The Jeeper’s Jungle is alive, and I just have to go out of my way to find it. The hunt is on.
