The Sons of the Beaches

 

They say you can never go home again. Yet, here I am, staying in an inn (a motel, really) on the bluff overlooking downtown Bandon, Oregon. We're maybe half a mile from the house I grew up in. Later I'll drive over to that house to wallow in nostalgia for the old neighborhood.

It looks way smaller than my memories of it. But realistically it was just a two- bedroom, one bath home. My older brother Bob and I shared bunk beds in a back porch area. My sisters, Lana and Birdie had one bedroom, the folks occupied the other. I could hop the back fence to go to Junior High and High school. Ocean Crest elementary school was a grueling half mile walk away. Just for grins, we looked up the address to see what it would go for in today's inflated real estate market. $460,000!!! But it is a 2 bathroom house now. Somewhere back in time someone got tired of yelling "aren't you done in there yet???" and tacked on another one. I didn't snoop, but I'd also guess the chicken shed we had in back is probably gone. I can still hear them clucking in my minds ear. 

Bandon has exploded, population-wise since my childhood of the 50's and early sixties. From a dying timber town to the home of one of the world's ritziest golf resorts is a drastic change. Our only golf course used to be a raggedy 9-holer my father referred to as "that glorified cow pasture out on the beach loop." California retirees moved to Bandon enmasse creating luxury condos where once were sand and gorse. It's not all bad of course. The new library alongside the city park is impressive. What used to be the library (with a 3 book check out rule for kids) is now a nifty little historical museum. 

The town still has a ton of charm. Much of what I loved growing up is still there. People still pick up their mail at the post office; the docks, the funky downtown, the jetty jutting out into the sea. I'm told whales sometimes come in to rub against the rocks. Hey, if you've got an itch, scratch it. And, of course, the iconic lighthouse. 

Another memorable part of the coastline near Bandon is the monumental assortment of big rocks. We spent a ton of time scrambling up and down them as kids. A fan fave is Face Rock. 

Sadly, I kept seeing the profile of my least favorite American president. Shake it off Mike.

We enjoyed a lovely early dinner/happy hour nostalgia fest with Sharon Ward Moy and Bill Smith, two people I've known since elementary school. Our spousal units were kind enough to allow us to wallow, while occasionally interjecting something nonhistorical. The food and conversation were both top notch and memorable. 

Ah, yes, I should probably explain the title of the blog "The Sons of the Beaches." My dad, Carroll was very active in the local Lion's club. And that was their nickname. They had the letters stenciled onto jackets and sweaters and wore them proudly around town. Here's my pop in action. 

And just so I can embarrass a living relative, here's my older sister Lana marching and spinning her baton as the high school band marches through town.

So Thomas Wolfe was wrong. You can go home again. And you can enjoy the memories and the places you hung out. To top off this wonderful trip, on the way home, my amazing wife wangled us a room with a jacuzzi at Sailor Jack's, right on the beach in Lincoln City. We ate take-out clam strips from Mo's, I luxuriated in a hot water massage and we watched an insanely beautiful sunset over the Pacific. 

Life is Good !!!!!

Two Days on the Left Coast

Carolyn J. Rose

When I get an opportunity to go to the coast, I take it. No matter what the weather might be like, there will still be waves to watch, fried clams to eat, and agates to hunt.

So, even though the forecast calls for clouds and chilly temperatures, we pack up and head out with our friends Michael and Mia Lundergan. Thinking about what lies ahead makes the Portland traffic almost tolerable, and soon we’re at one of our usual stops—Mo’s. There are other choices for chowder on the Oregon coast, many other choices, and we can argue their merits all day long. But Mike’s father knew Mo, back when she first opened, and stopping off there is a tradition.

Bellies full, we comb a beach or two, getting our fill of fresh air and sunshine that defies the forecast before landing at a casino. Luck is with three of us. Not BIG luck, but enough luck to allow us each a small profit—profit we’ll spend at least three times the next day. Found money seems to burn a hole in a pocket faster than the cash you work for.

When the sun pops up again in the east, we head south, stopping at Goodwill and almost buying a mechanical talking turkey before laughing off the impulse. After combing a few beaches, we make it to Newport and find, to our delight, that Georgie’s has the artichoke-lime soup two of us have been known to dream about since our first encounter with it years ago. And—bonus!—we also spot a few whales blowing close in.

Stuffed once again, we head south for the Devil’s Churn, several more beaches, and a little shopping. By now wind is whipping the waves and each stop involves slapping on hats and zipping jackets. We find several genuine agates and a number of rocks we carry back to the car because we tell each other they’re interesting or unique or unusual. You’d almost think we’re out to raise their self-esteem.

We end the day eating another wonderful meal at Tidal Raves in Depoe Bay. The tide is coming in, but it isn’t full enough to send water spraying high in the air through blow holes. We watch for a time, then head back to our motel to take in the sunset. Here's an edited version of the sun being extinguished in the Pacific. Forgive the annoying logo of the free (ahem) software Mike used to cut it from it's original length. 

The next morning, souls renewed, we head home to mundane chores, less spectacular views, and meals that are more sensible for people who should be watching their calories and cholesterol.