You know what I mean about escaping the crazy, right? The crazy scenes, the crazy demands and, in particular, the crazy people. Yeah, they're like gum on the bottom of the shoe. Crazy and they won't go away.
So we take a last getaway before the rhythms of the school year overtake us and cramp the style. The beaches of the coast of Maine give the beaches of the Caribbean a run for their money and we're fortunate to have both options at our disposal.
The Atlantic Ocean is barely above freezing, particularly as August winds down and September slides in. But the views are spectacular. A Jamaican beach can provide sugar-white sands, bathtub-water temperatures and shades of turquoise that make you want to take a bite out of them. But with the exception of jet skis and parasails crossing your landscape every five minutes, the pretty blue water can get rather bland.
The crashing surf of the Prussian blue Atlantic, on beaches that shrink and deepen dramatically with the tides, is a stark contrast to the mild-mannered Caribbean. The bay is pockmarked with rocky outposts, some abandoned, some hillsides blanketed with tiny cottages clinging fiercely to their foundations. It just never gets old.
So we meet up with our mirror family -- the bredren bond over the grill stacked with swordfish, the sistren shout their supervision from beach chairs, our patois impeccable if not also slightly mocking. The two grandmamas in attendance sip their vodka and grapefruit, yet another common trait they share. And the lovely all-girl pickney posse kicks around a soccer ball, trying to avoid the waves.
It's bliss, baby, bliss.
What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life - to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories.
-- George Eliot
These are Tasha's half-siblings. They all share the same father but not the same mother. Neither the baby-faddah nor any of his three ( or more?) baby muddas has a job; despite being grown they just continue to live at home with their own parents.
And keep having unwanted children.
The children spend their time shuttling between one yard and another, typically tossed to the other parent when there is a behavior problem -- "she too much chobble" or "he too face-ty" (feisty) -- or when school fees are due.
Regardless, they are usually under the care of one of their grandmothers more often than not. It's always the grandmothers who seem to step in and raise the unwanted generation, isn't it? They pay the bills, feed and clothe them, provide the only stability they know.
Let's hope they do a better job with their grandchildren than they did with their own kids........maybe they are older and wiser now, hmmm?
"If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much."Jacqueline Kennedy