Memories of yore

In the doldrums of August, with seemingly no one at their desk to take my call or read my carefully crafted email, I resorted to one of the many amusements of the so-called "Internet": GoogleMaps.

So I checked out the satellite images of Emerald Isle, my old beach haunt, and confirmed that, indeed, they done built a bunch since I was last there.

And my eye trailed south from Emerald Isle to Bear Island, or Hammock's Beach State Park, as pristine and untouched as ever it was. And my eye focused more specifically on the southwest tip of the island, where, in 1988, I wandered naked amongst the dunes with a number of my college cronies, until most of them headed back up the beach to where our stuff was, and I was left lolling in a shallow pool of water -- far out of eyeshot from anyone and with a long views of anyone who might approach -- with a young woman with whom I was, at the time, romantically involved, whom we may call, shall we saw, Jennifer. And we lolled there in that water and talked, and I thought... and I thought.... and I thought too damned much, and did not pull the trigger, and there it went. My one and almost certainly final chance to have fantasy island sex on the beach, vanished in the ether, only to be immortalized in blog.