A Tribute To My Parents Who Died 15 Years Ago Today May 14

Well, my first blog was about the beginning.

Here's the ending. I'll try to fill this blog with the in between over time.

Tribute To Richard & Janice Taylor




beachcomberkt@yahoo.com

I know so many people that have been devestated by your loss and will never be the same again...me included.

I really can't say that it feels like 15 years, because I remember everything about you like you were here yesterday. Can a state of shock last a lifetime? I'm really starting to think so.

An Angel

An angel came for me today.
She brought the dawn of a brand new day.
I knew she'd come to lead the way.
This is what she had to say:

Parts of you are here to stay,
Dwelling in hearts of those whom may
Have been touched by you
Along the way.

Your new life begins today,
Touching souls in a different way.
You'll have a chance to hear them pray,
Watch them grow, see them play.

And they'll see you in a brand new way.
Perhaps as a golden sunshine ray,
Bursting through clouds of gray,
Still brightening their lives from day to day.

Or in a vivid rainbow arching the sky,
A glowing sunset or a cheerful sunrise.
A mighty hawk soaring high...
They'll see your face and twinkling eyes.

They'll adjust and strengthen as time passes by.
Their hearts will heal...their tears will dry.
They'll stop wasting time trying to figure out why,
And with a new fervor, their hardest they'll try.

When we do this thing called die…
It will come to them as no surprise…
We never really say good-bye…
It's just "So long", until they rise…

My First Blog Is About My Childhood At Crescent Beach, Mattapoisett, MA

My first blog better be good....a very good place to start is the beginning. I grew up at Crescent Beach in a town on the South Coast of Massachusetts called Mattapoisett. Mattapoisett is Wampanoag for "place of rest". The Native Americans used to go down from the Plymouth area to Mattapoisett during the summer months. They gathered quahogs. A quahog is like a hard shell clam. It has a distintive dark purple marking on the inside of the shell. This is called Wampum and was used as a form of currency by the colonists that came to Plymouth. I've heard that it is still used in some states as currency. Today it is also used in the making of jewelry, driveways and there are many big quahog shells being used as ashtrays in many cottages.



Growing up at Crescent Beach was special. We lived in a desolate beach community for 10 months out of the year, and it was like Coney Island for 2 months out of the year. Our summer routine was to walk to the beach after breakfast from 9 -12, then go back up for lunch, and play in our friend Nancy's barn while our lunch digested, then back to the beach until around 3:00 and then shower all the salt water off and get ready for dinner. What a great life that was. I didn't even care about getting bit by sand crabs on a daily basis (they are big crabs that are sand colored and bury themselves in the sand waiting for a nice tender foot to come along) and the sticky itchy feeling that you get from swimming in the salt water. Then fall would roll around. By Labor Day everyone would go back to their winter houses and our fun would really begin. Those are some of the best memories that I have...having run-of-the-mill of the beaches, creek, marsh and streets. We climbed trees, ran around and rode our bikes everywhere without worrying about cars, we sledded anywhere we wanted, we even used to ice skate in the big frozen puddles right in the street. There were 7 of us kids in my family. There was no video games or cable tv yet, so we always went out and played after school. We always had a storm (NorEaster) in November that would prevent the bus from getting to us because the creek near the entrance to Crescent Beach would be flooded. We would bundle up and head out to beachcomb. All kinds of bouys and neat things would wash up on the shore. We also had the woods to roam. Lots of woods. We would find bottle dumps and dig up old bottles. We used to hike through the woods to this pond that we knew about. It was like our pond because nobody else ever went there. We went there to ice skate in the winter. There we would make up games, like we were in Norway and had to skate to school. In the spring we would go there to see tadpoles and turtles. Lots of painted turtles (black with what looks like orange paint splattered on them) and box turtles.
I wrote a poem about it 1993...

Crescent Beach

Crescent Beach,

Where art though now?
Walking on the beach alone
In snow boots, mufflers
And coats of down.

With the windchill
Factor, it's twenty below.
Tonight they're expecting
A great deal of snow.

Icy wind whips
Your face beet red.
If your feet get wet,
They'll feel like they've bled.

Squint your eyes against
The sun's bright glare.
The roll of the surf
Is the only sound you'll hear.

With the exception of
An occasional seagull,
Or the panting of an
Unleashed beagle.

Flash forward and see
Him shaking sand
On someone's freshly
Lotioned hand.

“No dogs allowed;
Can't you read?”,
Barks one of the
Original beach-bum queens.

Young architects building
Elaborate manors.
By day's end you can tell
The burners from tanners.

It's ninety-three
Degrees in the shade.
If life's a beach,
Then we've got it made.

Dance on the sand
‘Cause you can't take its heat.
Flash forward…you're
Warming the soles of your feet…

Holding them up to that
Old Humphrey heater…
Drinking hot cocoa…
It just doesn't get sweeter.

I hope you have enjoyed my first blog. I have more to tell. I'll be back. ; )

Thank you for reading this.