R.I. Memories

Time for two stories. Right after I moved to Albany I was hot to cover the New England states. One night after work I put on my swimsuit, grabbed a towel and headed for my first sight of the Atlantic Ocean. Naturally, everyone thought I was nuts since I had to be back to work the next afternoon. But when you're from Texas, a 2-3 hour drive is like an afternoon stroll in the park. Off I went.

Providence was a new planet for me. Pulling up in front of a beautiful hotel, I noticed all the commotion and bright lights. Just then 2 different gangs of boys ran across the street in front of me, into a parking lot. They were out to vandalize. Police were monitoring and shining their flashlights all over the place. I waved a cop over and rolled down my window.

He shined his light in my car and I said, "Hi, can you tell me how to get to the Atlantic?" He was shocked to say the least, and began to berate me in a thick accent I could barely understand, "Listen you, dressed like DAT? What the hell you doin? It's midnight! You betta get outa hee-yuh NOW. A young girl like yous gonna get raped or killed or both. You see dis place? Drive outa town and don't even think about lookin back for 20 minutes!"

I was shaking, almost crying, panicked. I stepped on the gas and headed South following his pointed finger; in 25 minutes I was at Misquamicut Beach. Nice, calm, quiet. I fell asleep in my car in a gas station parking lot and woke up to the sound of seagulls.

Texas beaches are HUGE and warm. You can drive your car right on the beach, which might explain the tar everywhere. This beach was so narrow, but jam packed with people talking just like the policeman. I'd never seen or heard anything like it. I chatted with a few people, jumped in the freezing ocean, basked in the sun for awhile and drove home vowing never to come to Rhode Island again.

But I did go back. A friend from Texas came to visit and she and Tomcat talked me into it. Driving along minding our own business, an enormous purple tour bus came out of nowhere and side-swiped our car, knocking us off the road. By the time we could focus, we saw it barreling on ahead completely unaware! Fortunately, we were unscathed and this time I swore an oath never to come back to this state and I meant it.

But I did go back one last time. It's called the Ocean State because you can get to the ocean in 30 minutes from anywhere. So I figured we may as well see the ocean!

It's an incredible place this time of year -- empty, clean and calm. The beach was scattered with washed up starfish and Peanut sat down blissfully with her Nature Journal. Little Man climbed the sand dunes and talked Doodle into doing somersaults down them (arrgh!). Grandma and I listened to the roar as the tide made it's way out and meandered along, beach combing. It was her first sight of the Atlantic.