Winter Sabbatical Recap

The national news was so grim in January that, when we arrived in Atlantic Beach this year, I promised myself that I would not keep up with it for a month or two.  A Sabbatical, for both of us, is a time to distance ourselves from such things for a short time, to reevaluate where we have been and where we are going – we have often made big decisions out here, away from the routines and responsibilities that seem to bind us at home.  Martha began a new exercise routine that involves intense morning exercises and a challenge to walk many, many miles, and as a result she has lost weight and is as fit and strong as I think she has ever been, so much so that, has she not given up running races, she would surely place first in her age group.  I had ambitions of running a race in January, which never happened, and of beginning to build a base of winter mileage, which also never happened. 

Part of the reason we winter in Atlantic Beach is that it is about twenty degrees warmer than in Highlands, so we are usually able to hike (and in my case) run and spend time out of doors.  But in our last snowstorm – and any snowstorm is a rare event in this part of the world – Highlands received ten inches while Atlantic Beach received fifteen inches.  I did not run at all some weeks, which meant fewer miles than ever before, although I did manage to go to the Sports Center to lift weights twice a week or so, and I completed, toward the end of our stay, a five- and a six-mile run.  

My promise to distance myself from the news did not last long:   ICE agents were murdering Americans in cold blood in Minneapolis, our military kidnapped the president of Venezuela (and his wife), and most recently the failed reality-TV show President and his FOX weekend news host “Secretary of War” started a foolish war with Iran.  On the first day of the war, more than a hundred innocent schoolgirls were killed by a tomahawk missile.  

I did manage to write some poetry, another one of my Sabbatical goals, but much of it was bleak and filled with outrage and sadness. 

It is midwinter all across our weary nation,
from Minneapolis to Washington the hard cold
has settled in, and we have to wonder if the
bright summer birds will ever wake us
with their hopeful gentle songs of peace.

Walking on the beach is always a balm, and like going for a run or attending a yoga session, it never fails to calm and settle the troubled mind.  The last couple of days (as is always the case) were unusually beautiful, warm and sunny, and we took full advantage of them.  On one of them, we walked to Oceanana Pier, and along the way we met a man walking with his three young daughters, who had kicked their shoes off and were wading in the icy cold surf.  I asked the little girls if they would like a shell I had just found, and one of them eagerly took it.  Then the father asked, perhaps as payment for my gift, "Would you like to hear some beautiful music?"  We did, and it turned out that the three were accomplished young vocalists, and they proceeded to belt out a gorgeous version of the gospel song "The Sweet Holy Spirit" in perfect three-part harmony, holding hands and beaming with happiness.  Beautiful!  You never know what treasures you will come upon on the beach. 

"Sweet Holy Spirit, oh how I love Thee
For being a comfort so many times and for strengthening me
For I could not make it across life's troubled sea
If the sweet Holy Spirit should ever leave me."

As I write today, we have returned to Highlands, the place where Martha was born and where we have lived for forty-three years, although there were many changes over the winter.  The beloved Highlands Playhouse building, the Holt corner and Stone Lantern, and the Bank of America have all been torn down, the latter to be replaced with an unattractive hotel.  And although we saw flowering red bud trees and forsythia all along the way on our return trip, temperatures tomorrow are expected to (as the meteorologists all insist on saying) “drop like a rock,” into the twenties with single-digit wind chills. There are reports of snow flurries up in town. 

 But unlike past years, we walked into a home that had power and water, and our furnace came on immediately.  We have much to be thankful for.  We carry with us memories of many days of beautiful sunrises, walks on the beach, hikes at Fort Macon, good times with good friends, and continuing health and fitness.  For which we can always be thankful, through time and tides and comings and goings.