Thursday, October 18, 2007

The Dunes

The dunes. Giant sugar covered bellies that we wallowed over like tiny pups with our eyes closed. From the time we could toddle, we were rolling in them, crawling up their shifting sides, sliding down their salty shins. From our house to the roaring ocean, the only fence standing was the dunes. The sun would rise and spray paint their peaks the color of mirrors. And so, we would climb them blindfolded. Chubby little hands folded over squinting eyes. And then swoosh….down the other side to the Gulf. The giant body of endless water that called our names out loud.

We played pirates there. Built Geronimo’s fort out of cardboard boxes and terry cloth towels. Pretended we were movie star cast-aways . We dug for buried treasures and found plenty of them….rusty beer cans, abandoned crab nets, Tiparillos. Mottled oyster shells were sudden jewelry boxes, and we filled them to the brim with colored periwinkles, fishing hooks, and adolescent shark teeth. Summer’s in my memories are measured by how we climbed the dunes. Eventually the cardboard walls of our forts were transformed into cardboard surfboards. We would drag the flattened A & P boxes up one side of the sandy mountain, and go flying, bottoms up, face first, clinging to the makeshift sea sleds down the other. We hauled the entire length of the clothesline up and over the Mother of all dunes, and played Man-of-war-tug-of-war. Which team would be pulled up the dune, heels digging in the scorching sand? Fingers sliced with instant paper cuts from the nylon cord? And which team, would be the winners, sent flying fannies backward by their victory ? We would all eat dirt eventually. Crashing headfirst into the salty earth.

And then there was the jeep. We were not allowed this carnival ride. Not by Mama , anyway. We stole it. Not the jeep, but the memory. Our Daddy and Mr. Bruce, daddy-sitting on a Friday night, piled us in the back, like sardines ourselves, and we were suddenly bobbing, leaping, lurching up the white hillside. The headlights flickered up and down, sideways, making fun of the stars as we struggled to climb the daring dune. At the top, with the tires spinning frantically in place, I was sure we would just topple off the earth. Instead we dove into the black night and landed, promptly, poooooossssssshhhhh , into the forest colored ocean: angry waves swatting at the windows like a drooling, rolling monster. “Sshhhhhhhhhh. Listen for the motor.” I watched peanut butter and jelly sandwiches floating by….Listened for my own motor. My heartbeat. Anyone’s heartbeat. I dug my fingers into Kimcam’s thighs and she never made a sound. We held onto Paiger and the boys like priceless Madame Alexander dolls. The Monster pounded at our doors. Slithered his rheumy arms over the canvas rooftop. His breathing was rhythmic. Splish. Splash. Gurgle. The jeep rocked slowly, the ocean was luring us with his lullaby. And then bam! Mr. Bruce shoved it into gear, and an upside down waterfall was spewing from the jeep, spitting at the stars…..and we were off again! Fishtailing it down the coquina sprinkled shoreline.

Last summer we dunerolled down the wet hills into the nighttime sea . Strangers stood on the crumbling seawall and hooped as we made our wreckless descent. Went face first to the ocean. To the kissing, glorious, arms of the ocean, calling our names.....


Feel the love....
Ride the wave....

49 comments:

kimbies said...

To survive what life throws our way we must have memories, that take us to a place of peace, fun, and thrills!!!! Oh those wonderful beach summers, crabbing, fishing, floating endlessly, windows open cause there was no air, the sound, the smell of salt, Gumbo, and periwinkle stew, crab legs, flip flops, and of course Morgan. Oh the many memeories, I do hope our children can look back and laugh, love and find peace! love!

Maithri said...

And she fills the page with words that whisper such an honest grace into the hearts of all those lucky enough to climb the dunes and sit cross-legged listening.

Sending you love and endless blessings (With my bucket and spade in hand),

Maithri

savannah said...

sweet! probably the worse thing in the world is forgetting...here's to memories, sugar!

peace

skinnylittleblonde said...

Sister Kimbies & Singleton! LOL...I bet the 'kids,' many of which now have kids of their own, have many more memories of stolen moments than even we can recant... I can only imagine their 'I remember once...' stories that they share with one another when we are not around! I love you both so vey much & miss you intently! To Good Memories, Good Moments & Good Love! xoxox

singleton said...

kimbies....we're not done making those memories....standing at the seawall in flannel gowns drinking bloody mary's and watchin' Catfish head out for the morning catch....floating tied together with fluorescent noodles from the dollar store....feasting on lobster tails and shishkabobs with perfect strangers, our new best friends...falling on sandy dance floors in the company of, what was that tattooed all over their bodies, those sweet young men? Oh, yeah, The Brotherhood of Death! Yeah, we are so not done......And the kids have just begun....ILYSVVM!

Maithri....we've been blessed in a zillion ways, and with plastic bucket and spade in hand, we'll take your hand.....and watch, there are treasures everywhere....umbrella shells, heartshaped rocks, butterfly wings....glow in the dark jelly fish, bubble bath ocean foam, and laughter.....and barefoot peace!

savannah....I clink you on that one, big time! We have to make 'em precious enough to remember, and never ever forget to do that!

Sweet SLB of ours....Oh, they'll tell stories we've never heard (And probably have it all captured on video with our faces right in the hoo-hah!) To sister love, and chillen' love, and the yellow butterfly of San Marina....ILYSVVM

peace~love written in the sand

drips of paint said...

Hi singleton,

Just running over to say hi, and wish great dancing Friday night tomorrow...

need to rush back to work .... too much ...

peace and lots of love to you:)))

eric1313 said...

I dropped by last night, but I could not concentrate to save my life from the monster hidden under the foaming waves of the tide.

I'm glad I came by now.

I can feel the salt air licking my face, healing it, and see the moon, it's light spilling out like white filmy silk on our tanned bodies.

Your memory is our joyride. Spin the wheels; lets go. Anywhere.

singleton said...

Drips....
Tink! Hope all is well in your busy world these days, Funny, but I was moving things around last evening and the little note you sent with the hand-me-down blues went sailing past me, a little kite of wishes! Thank you again, my friend,
Peace~love~and let the colors flow

Eric....
I have those moments, days, nights,....when my mind is one of those giant bingo baskets and some unknown Friday Night Volunteer is cranking the handle and pulling out numbers in random order...and I could put a 1000 bingo cards on the table and never land two thoughts in a row! I've slept like that for two nights in a row, haunted or hunted by midnight monsters shaking me awake!
I'm ready to joyride, to fly!

Peace~love, crankin' the engine...

Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

Hello childhood!

Where's my bucket and spade?

I want to go and make sandcastles.

benjibopper said...

wow, this brings back sweet memories. we used to jump off the dunes and it felt like flying. unfortunately the dunes are gone. sand mining. and maybe too much dune jumping. in the gobi desert our inner children climbed 600 foot dunes and slid and rolled and jumped down, sand in everything including our cameras. it was so worth it.

wreckless said...

wish Iwas there!
have a great weekeend!

singleton said...

ultra....awwwww.....the sandcastles! They rock! And there they are in all their glory, ta!dah!, but for magic moments, hours if we're lucky, and then slurped back out to sea..... clink!

benji..."sand in everything"....isn't that how childhoods are meant to be? Beautiful!

peace~love boys, fridays are for dancing!

eric1313 said...

Clink ya real time, Hippie!

The Electric Orchid Hunter said...

This made me recall one of my father's stories about climbing the massive dunes of East London (a South African city by the Indian Ocean) as a young boy in the '50s. Apparently some of the dunes were so huge that it would take him and the other boys all afternoon just to reach the top. They'd have time to slide down only once, using flattened cardboard boxes waxed with broken candles, before the sun would go down and it would be the end of another carefree day.

singleton said...

Eric...Clink! Gettin' ready now! :) Whooooo~hoooooo! 7 days is forever in between sets!

Electric....That is an awesome story. They worked all day, climbing, lugging, laughing for the high of one good ride! I love it! Absolutely love it! If we could all understand the rush is worth everything it took to get there!

Peace~love boys, What are Fridays for?

singleton said...

Wreckless.....Oooops! What happened? I hit send too soon! Wishing you a wonderful week-end too, I wish everyone was here and we were having one big gigantic sand castle building, dune rolling, dancing in the moon week-end!

sandykessler said...

wow the mnemories the first little suit with bloomers, later 2 piece not a woman but think I am, under the boardwalk, casino on top , true love - Sherry baby oh my floodgates open...thanks

singleton said...

sandy....And now you've got me going....Prom night was an all nighter...cars lined up as far as you could see facing the sea like she was a giant drive-in TV....and we there we were , barefoot in gowns and tuxedo tails, passing Strawberry Hill from chevette to camaro in the moonlight....Dancing in the sand!.....
Floodgates open!

Anonymous said...

ILY & MY SVFM...
Off to bed....xoxox
slb

singleton said...

SLB....ILYSVVM and we'll dance again, all of us together, a circle in the sand!

Oceanshaman said...

Feelin' the love . . .

Ridin' the wave . . .

Scott from Oregon said...

We used to go to a place called Salmon creek where the dunes were fifty feet high (or so they seemed) and they ended abruptly into fresh water pooling at the closed mouth at the beach.

You could leap a good twenty feet down and crash and burn and roll and cover yourself head to toe with sand and then wash it all off in an instant.

Ahh yes... the dunes...

karoline said...

oh singleton...i miss the ocean so...

k:)))

Maddy said...

Aha! Found you. Fabulous post, lovely photo. What a good sharer you are.
Best wishes

eric1313 said...

Thank for being the you that you are.

IknowyouknowIknowyouknowI.....

Peace, love and beat the blues, baby!

singleton said...

oceans....
When you feel the love, it's the ride of a lifetime!

Scott....I am blown away at the incredible Dune Stories....Every child should have 500 foot dunes in their lives, even if they're clay construction pits!

Karoline....If you aren't near it, I know you're missin' it.....The ocean, and all it's grandeur, is a love affair that lasts forever....

Maddy....Sorry for the bread crumb trail, I really only know my away around my own backyard blogland! And again, you're amazing!

Eric....Iknowyouknowiknowu...
Dancin'
in circles
and the needle is stuck
on the same ole words....
Bell bottom blues

Peace~love to all, And Saturday, make it last....this one only happen's once....

Shimmerrings said...

oh, man, what a story! Beautifully told, as always.

Deeis4Dana said...

Chills! :)
D.

eric1313 said...

Clink! Real time!

You missed a new bird's flight, ny three minutes.

singleton said...

shimmerings...thank you, peace~love, and stories like wine grow better with age.....

dee......:) Rice.....soon!

Eric.....Three minutes.... In the middle of the night! I'm wondering and wandering now....

Peace~love, and Sundays have arrived, my friends

eric1313 said...

See you in the morning, my friend.

Peace and love.

singleton said...

Eric...I found it, Saturday night ponderings, musings, wonderings...dilemas of the heart, "Should I stay or should I go?"....Wishing you peace friend and the answers in the wind....
Oh! Or try this.....Skinny is doing readings from The Oracle of Love! Yup, try that!

eric1313 said...

I saw Skinny's words. They made me laugh and cry.

No dilema, my friend, just new words for thoughts still lodged in my tale-telling heart.

If you saw something sad between the lines,it might have been
musings of old to a new friend, one who should not throw everything away just because life
is at a dark point at this moment in time.

The answers are in the wind, but also in our heart-cases.

I've just been depressed for reasons I don't even know. As Jimi notes in his song, Burning of the Midnight Lamp, "loneliness is such a drag."

singleton said...

Eric....I don't know if I saw something sad between the lines, or felt it, the lost blues as Kimbies calls them...but darkness crept there, old or new, laid it's shadow
And in the wind, the answers unfold, billowing....
free from all we think or wish or want to be,
they just become,
the ethereal butterfly effect....

The lost blues...."for reasons I don't even know".....

Wishing you peace~love, and the knowing that you are not alone

eric1313 said...

I'm not alone
as long as the wind
will talk to me,
I hear your voice

I'm listening...

singleton said...

The wind always has a story to tell....
she whispers
in the night,
whipporwhills
to the moon,
frolicks in the sun

But, she listens,
as she goes,
tumbling litter
winter leaves
baby butterflies
waves
crashing

the sounds of her voice
echoed
and alive

breathing

eric1313 said...

Sometimes I hear her
moan--gasp--cry
sometimes
laugh--lilt--whisper

In the night,
there are secrets
everywhere
and she knows
all of them.

But if one knows
to listen well
to her breathy voice
and feel her caress
and her soft kisses
on their face
nothing
will remain hidden

Nothing
will stop us
from becoming one,
from becoming kites
blue and purple
and red and white
flying
in the palm
of her invisible hand

singleton said...

And then she'll do
what the wind
always does,
she'll unravel
the kite string
one loop
one inch
one beer
one line
at a time
and set it free

a new constellation

Cinderella in the sky

eric1313 said...

Clink!

I'll throw that one all together and it will be our epic on the wall of butterfly bar.

Neon lights burning bright. Sometimes, they never fall down...

singleton said...

The neon lights click on and on, clinking
even in the dark
on the abandoned streets
of the after hour

in the see-through
shadow of the rising
sun,
and her lunch time squint
(Don't frown you'll get wrinkles)

the neon lights
rock on

eric1313 said...

...all night.

We get poems from the most beautiful of things.

btw,
can I sign in as Butterfly bar by putting in the keys as you told me in the email?

I think I get it now. I'm a little shaky still on how blogger works, but then I could put up some paitings, and that's would be the best way to post these poems by the both of us, too.

I'll fly by moonlight...

And tomorrow's sun will rise on some gorgeous writing on othe wall.

singleton said...

Eric...Yup, The keys are in the box! Watching the sunrise now!

eric1313 said...

Here she is, the product of our joyous labors last night...



An Every-Night Cinderella
Singleton/E1313


I'm not alone
as long as the wind
will talk to me,
I hear your voice

I'm listening...

The wind
always has
a story to tell....

She whispers
in the night,
whipporwhills
to the moon,
frolicks in the sun

But, she listens,
as she goes,
tumbling litter
winter leaves
baby butterflies
waves
crashing

the sounds of her voice
echoed
and alive

Sometimes I hear her
moan--gasp--cry
sometimes
laugh--lilt--whisper

In the night,
there are secrets
everywhere
and she knows
all of them.

But if one knows
to listen well
to her breathy voice
and feel her caress
and her soft kisses
on their face
nothing
will remain hidden

Nothing
will stop us
from becoming one,
from becoming kites
blue and purple
and red and white
flying
in the palm
of her invisible hand

And then she'll do
what the wind
always does,
she'll unravel
the kite string
one loop
one inch
one beer
one line
at a time
and set it free

a new constellation

One more brand new
Cinderella
in her midnight sky.

eric1313 said...

The Red Glow of Paradise
Singleton/E1313


Neon lights burning
Red hot and electric
they never close down
fall down, burn out
they never do lie
except to the city.

The neon lights click
on and on, clinking
even with the dark
thinking, tinking
on abandoned streets
of the long after hour
craze and shuffle home

Red light glaring like
moonlight and bloodstone
in the see-through shadow
of the old rising sun,
on her lunch time squint
(Don't frown,
you'll get wrinkles)

the neon lights rock on
through the night.

The neon lights never lie,
to our sight.

eric1313 said...

Not one word did we waste. You and I, we can tell a freakin's story, that is so very very fo' sho'!

Clink!

eric1313 said...

I see your new clink! These babies are destined for the Butterfly bar.

Let me do it. They still need a fine touch, and I have formatting ideas for Cinderella...

Let me hang them up on the wall or write them into draft.

Clink! I'm reading the new, now...

singleton said...

Go! You have work to do! Go! You are on a rock and roll! An every night Cinderella is the shadow of Mona Lisa in the hall....Go!

eric1313 said...

I'm so gone... Great story. And go by Trevor's, he's got a couple stories linked up. "A bad moon arising" is one crazy read. And I promise, Cinderella will be a proud dancer on the floor, alone and she'll need no other.

singleton said...

K....I'm off to Trevor's and late night supper at my elbow....Clink! You got it going on....