When my children were younger, we spent the summers at our little house near the South Jersey Shore. Our house was one of seventy-five or so, located on the marshes known as "Grassy Sound." Those who lived there had "squatter’s rights" and paid a yearly tax. The houses were on stilts and sat on a three-mile stretch of narrow road. It crossed an old bridge, leading to the beaches on the other side. We enjoyed the summers and kept busy with our simple pleasures. Our neighbors were friendly and were there if you needed them.

During the twelve years that we lived there, I watched the traffic and noise pollution grow. I would take the children to the beach in the morning, before the "Philly crowd" arrived. The traffic would be backed up from the bridge, past our houses to the parkway exit. Of course, when the bridge was "up" to let the taller fishing boats through, it was even worse! The crowded beaches caused everyone to count the heads often and kept the lifeguards busy. The parents constantly were putting on suntan lotion and swatting the flies that came in with the food. The children were oblivious to all this, while they splashed and built their sandcastles.

Everyone had a pier in the back and at least a rowboat. We had an outboard and spent a lot of our time winding through the canals, crabbing or catching minnows. I still see our sweet dog, sitting on the pier, waiting for our return. We would watch the minnows quickly swim away, after we returned them to the water once more. We cooked and ate the crabs, so delicious and sweet.

When it was full moon, the tide was always higher. The marsh would be covered with water, hiding all the tall green grass that gently waved with the summer breeze. While we slept, we would hear the sounds of the fish plopping in and out of the water. When my oldest son was under the age of ten, he would pretend we lived on a houseboat.

We had many cookouts with our family and friends. We laughed, ate and had good times. Visitors were told that you never were a part of "Grassy" unless you fell off the pier at least once!

The seagulls always knew when it was dinnertime. The children and I would delight in feeding them. All you needed to do was wave your hand and they came from every direction. There was one large white seagull that my older son named "Petey." He sat on a large post at the end of the pier and was always first to fly overhead. To have them come so close to you was truly amazing. How beautiful and graceful they were!

My favorite time was going down to the beach at sunset. The children and our faithful springer spaniel loved to roam the beaches with me. Sometimes there were treasures to be found among the things left or forgotten by the sunbathers. The children would run, splash and dig to their heart’s content. Their eyes were wide with discovery when they found anything at all. I was more aware of the joy and innocence in their eyes at these special times. When we would walk along the water’s edge, the waves would tickle our toes. We loved it when the waves were on their way out again, sinking our feet only deeper into the smooth velvety sand. Our springer was constantly backing away from the water. How she hated to get wet! The higher waves would spray our faces, leaving us wonderfully refreshed. How soothing it felt on our sunburn! As quickly as they came, the waves would back away. It was as if they were forever teasing us. We stayed, enjoying the moments, hating to leave.

While the children ran and played, I felt an inner peace and I grew more conscious of it with each passing summer. It was there that I first realized how endless the ocean seemed and what eternity really meant. Her waves were endless and forever. I became aware too, of the real power and beauty that lay before me. Its’ spirit surrounded me, making me feel safe.

I enjoyed the solitude even more at sunrise. If I wasn’t too lazy that morning, the dog and I would sneak down to the beach. The beach sweepers had done their job well. There was a clean, endless beach as far as the eye could see. It was as if the sea was its blanket and the white fluffy clouds were pillows. I felt as if the earth and I shared a mystery that no one would ever understand. How I hated to board up the house in the fall! In those years I would never have admitted to these feelings, verbally or in writing!

This was over thirty years ago and before the "Wet Lands Act" was passed. "Grassy" as we squatters affectionately called it, no longer exists today. The houses are gone now and in their place is a new, larger highway. The memories of these years and our many walks on the beach will live in my heart always.

I was a minute, but important part in this "spirit of things." The seagulls’ cry over head and the power of the ocean surrounded me with their songs. The smell of the salt air and beauty of the sunrise are planted deep within my being. When I visualize the sea and all her grace, it calms and soothes me. Not only does this scenario remind me that I am just a small piece in this very large puzzle, but that I play an important role in this scheme of things. I have a purpose and I am but a part in all that surrounds me. I realized then that man, earth and the universe are truly one.

Like the seagulls circling above, we are spirits joined together in our ever ending search for tranquillity and peace. Each of us has a place in the sun, whether we call it "Grassy" or by any other name. What part our spirit plays there is totally up to each and every one of us.