A lot of people - ranging from Silent Generation to Millennials - had the same idea. We would spend part of Christmas Day by the sea.
Cars with one person, with couples, jam packed with a family, and a dog and a Baby Boomer were parked by a small beach in Westerly, Rhode Island. There was no public access. Just a vertical incline dotted with rocks. But we could see and hear the ocean.
Some of us got out of cars. My dog needed to walk. Some jogged. A few sat on the benches, which for some reason were bolted down with chains. Yeah, like I am going to make off with one of them.
Those who were by themselves tended to stay in their cars, with almost a downcast look. I even knocked on one window and motioned the question, "Are you okay." The Millennial gave me a thumbs up. But I still wonder. I wanted to open a conversation but I am not a trained therapist.
Then there were also a handful of loners taking photos and videos with their iPhones. They appeared very official. I have a hunch they were on some kind of assignment. Last year at Westerly I had run into a professional photographer. His boss, who did lots of media work, lent him one of those old-fashioned cameras to try out. He took a series of photos of me. I called the experience "The Old Lady and the Sea." The blogging I did on it was linked to either his or his boss' Facebook account and received lots of traffic.
Soon after I ran into the photographer, I ran into two fellow Baby Boomers. They encouraged me to relocate to the area, and no worry about jobs. They could get me something in Mystic for about 10 bucks an hour. That still sounds good.
But for now I am settling for the hour drive from my home office in New Haven, Connecticut to Westerly. The dog Lee K. and I get along better when we go on that journey at least once a week. When we left today, the sun was setting. Lee K. slept most of the way home.