The iconic California beach resort, Hotel del Coronado, provided a majestic setting for a nice break from the winter-to-spring weather in Idaho. We met with the family on the beach near San Diego. US Navy jets flew low overhead on approach to the Naval Air Station North Island and Navy Seals worked out and practiced maneuvers on the beach. I watched the jets and MK watched the Seals.
MK’s brother, Gary, was the guy photographing everything with his new movie camera. Despite his valiant efforts, he couldn’t quite catch MK. She was in the last trimester of her fourth pregnancy and was particularly sensitive to being photographed. She actually hid in the closet, behind sliding wooden doors to avoid the camera. Gary did manage to capture her protests, rattling the closet doors from the inside when he tried to open them. To this day, I don’t understand why a beautiful woman, like MK, hides from the camera, but she does. You would think that she was in the Federal Witness Protection Program. She has avoided being in more pictures than anyone I know. Although she wants everyone else to be in pictures, she is essentially a woman without a photographic history.
When MK did come out of the closet, she donned her swimming suit for expecting mothers and we went to the beach. An idyllic afternoon with warm sun and blue skies complimented the gentle surf coming up and going down. Our three young daughters chased the foaming surf squealing and giggling. I joined in the fun but ran out of steam long before they did. I soon huffed and puffed up the sloping sand and plopped down next to MK. Without a word, she handed me a towel and we just sat there enjoying the beautiful moment.
Without a word, MK applied more Coppertone Coconut Sunscreen to my back and dropped the tube in her beach bag. She was not talking to me, or anyone else, at that moment. She was still in a snit over being trapped in the closet. She softened a little when I told her that I thought that Gary had been carried away down the beach by his movie camera. Soon we were just sitting on our towels in the sand, becoming one with the dreamy scene. Then I saw the Seals— two blonde crew cuts jogging right in front of us in perfect formation. Barefoot, they wore matching red US NAVY swim trunks, no shirts, and were tanned and chiseled—I could tell this was not their first jog down on this beach. As they went right in front of us, kicking up synchronous little puffs of sand, I explained to MK that these were probably some of the same Navy Seals we had seen training earlier in the day. She vacantly said, “Uh, huh.” Her gaze was fixed and she did not realize that she was mesmerized, thinking no one would notice her staring at these two examples of male perfection striding by—on the beach—on a perfect afternoon. Not being one to let an opportunity slip by unused, I said, “Remember when I looked like that?” Through her slightly gaping mouth, she slowly mumbled, “Uh, huh.” In a puzzled tone, I queried, “You do?” I could have said anything--she wasn’t listening.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it. MK read this and tells me that when I told her that Navy Seals were jogging on the beach right in front of us, she said that her mouth was NOT gaping, that she wasn’t even AWARE there were men on the beach, and that she only looked up briefly from her book to say, "Uh, huh.” She reminds me that it was, I, Roger, who was the one GAWKING at two girls in bikinis passing by. That’s HER story and she’s sticking to it. l guess it's all a matter of perspective.
Ever vigilant,
RT
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