Visiting
the beach is a religious experience.
I have a confession to make. I'm not a religious person. On a fundamental level, I just don't "get" religion. Sure, I went to church as a kid, and I
tried, I really tried, to feel whatever it is you're supposed to feel—but I never did.
Then I went away to college and the first Sunday rolled around and two thoughts occurred to me: (1) No one was there to make me go to church, and (2) I didn't even know where to go. So I rolled over and fell back to sleep. And never went to church again other than weddings (not, I hasten to add, my own; my husband and I eloped), christenings, confirmations, and funerals.
Then I went away to college and the first Sunday rolled around and two thoughts occurred to me: (1) No one was there to make me go to church, and (2) I didn't even know where to go. So I rolled over and fell back to sleep. And never went to church again other than weddings (not, I hasten to add, my own; my husband and I eloped), christenings, confirmations, and funerals.
But to me, visiting the beach is a religious experience. I gaze out at the horizon, breathe the salt air, listen to the crashing of the waves, and
commune with forces larger than myself.
Until some iPhone-aholic ruins it for me with their jangling ringtones.
The other day, my husband and I were at the town beach, sitting in our usual spot facing the sunset, when a woman
and her family parked themselves off to our right. The woman proceeded to receive a series of phone calls. At least three in as many minutes. I have no
idea what her ringtone was, but boy was it annoying.
Then a lone man parked a chair in front of us facing the waves and took out an electronic gadget and proceeded to tap on it incessantly. It was enough to make me want to grab both devices and throw them in the ocean.
Then a lone man parked a chair in front of us facing the waves and took out an electronic gadget and proceeded to tap on it incessantly. It was enough to make me want to grab both devices and throw them in the ocean.
Now, I telecommute, and my husband has often suggested that I get a laptop so I can work at the beach. But I don't want the beach to become my office.
I go there so I don't have to answer e-mails. I continue to use a dumb phone and refuse to get a smart one. Unless you're a surgeon or firefighter
who's on call, whatever it is—dinner plans, the location of clean towels—can wait till you get back from the beach.
As we all know, our town council is fond of banning things: wind energy, spitting in public, hitting trees. And no minority appears to be too small to cater to when they're looking for something to ban. So if the council really wants to improve the quality of life of this minority of one, please, ban electronics at the beach.
As we all know, our town council is fond of banning things: wind energy, spitting in public, hitting trees. And no minority appears to be too small to cater to when they're looking for something to ban. So if the council really wants to improve the quality of life of this minority of one, please, ban electronics at the beach.
Author: Linda Felaco