"remember when the days were long and rolled beneath a deep blue sky..."

Memory is a wonderful gift. Get any group of old friends together and it will not be long before someone and everyone begins sentences like, “Remember when…” or “Do you remember the time we…” or “I remember the last time we..” Memory is something often taken for granted. I came to realize this as I watched my wife’s maternal grandmother slip into a form of dementia at the end of her life. It really is a terrible disease. During that time, I read an article about the pastoral care of persons suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. The point was made that forms of dementia, such as Alzheimer’s disease, are unique from other diseases. Some diseases rob persons of the present in that the present misery lasts only a short time. Other terminal illnesses deprive a person of the present and the future in that they not only feel bad now, but they also ultimately take away the future ending in death. Dementia is unique because it denies one of the present, future, and the past. The ones who suffer cannot remember.

I performed the funeral service for Kim’s grandmother. This was hard for me. I never grieved her death. I never sat next to Kim, held her hand during the service, and cried with her. I only saw her cry. I put Myrtle Boyd’s life into words to help those who were grieving to remember her. We remembered her sense of humor. We called to mind her love for fishing perhaps only because she married a fisherman. We recalled how she loved Kure Beach Pier who served the best cone of ice cream and how the salt air of the seaside would cure any kind of ailment - physical, mental, or spiritual. I believe she was right about that.

I remember growing up going to Atlantic Beach on the coast of North Carolina. We would spend a week at the oceanfront Oceania Motel. I remember eating breakfast outside. I remember the motel had bikes, a playground, shuffleboard, and a fishing pier next door. I remember sleeping in the same room with my mother and father and sister. I remember having fun. The pool was small, but adequate for the families staying there with us. My mother never much liked to swim. She always swam trying to keep head out of the water. It seems my father always loved to play and make us laugh, and was responsible for taking care of my sister and me while in the pool. I remember laughing at him when he jumped from the diving board. I hope our children remember our family beach trips with the same fondness that I recall my own childhood vacations.

In May of 1987, Kim and I went to the Junior-Senior Prom. We had had a couple of dates prior to that, but I think this was the first event we attended together. Kim wore a white dress with a pink bow which she borrowed from a friend. Of course, I wore a rented tuxedo. We went to eat supper at Northgreen Country Club. I think we both ate lobster. I had never eaten lobster tail and was unaware how much it cost, but my parents paid for supper so I do not remember worrying too much about the extravagance. After the prom, perhaps even a few years later, Kim told me how embarrassed she was when the server came to remove her plate and she had crumbs all around her plate. I did not notice.

I remember meeting Kim’s father, “Toejoe,” for the first time that night. I believe he was more nervous than I was. (Having a daughter now, I realize why he was so anxious.) I picked Kim up about 3:30 in the afternoon so we could have our pictures made before supper. This must have been a good thing since Kim thought she was such a messy eater and might have spilled food on her prom dress.

The day after the prom Kim and I went with my best friend Franki to Atlantic Beach. As soon as we reached Morehead City which is directly across the bridge from Atlantic Beach traffic came to an absolute halt. There was a beach music festival the same day and we received word that a boat had over-turned on the only bridge accessing the island. We waited for some time until we could reach the beach. We went to the Fort Macon beach access, fell asleep, woke up, and went home. Kim looked wonderful in her dress the day before, but as a 17 year old male, I remember how wonderful she looked in her bathing suit. She still does.

At least for me, the beach is a way to remember. The beach is therapeutic. It brings back differing memories each time I step onto the sand. I remember this trip and that one. I remember this day and another one. If anyone could read my mind, they would hear a conversation beginning with sentences like, “Remember when…” or “Do you remember the time you…” or “I remember the last time you…” The beach can heal all your ailments, Myrtle used to say. Perhaps, it could even cure dementia, or prevent it.