Those Fool Folks

**please do not copy or reproduce these photos**

So it turns out both of my brothers are shutterbugs.  Grader Boob, still trying to ingratiate himself after failing to show up for his scheduled visit last month, proffers these photos as a means of assuaging his wild, wild guilt.  (We'll be looking for him in a few weeks!)

He took these at the beach that now serves as the front yard to my Dad and stepMom.  I know this beach, I know those dunes, I know that pier -- though I've not seen them for many a year.  Not the beach, not the dunes, not that pier.  Not the 'rents.

That's where I went, straight from every graduation I've attended.  That's where I got burned.  That's where we watched John Wayne movies when it rained.  That's where I read Harriett the Spy.  That's where I confessed my transgressions.  That's where I took friends who could not decide to wed. 

That's where boiled shrimp on newspaper, a green salad, and crusty bread was a regular feast, and spaghetti for throngs.  That's where I fell in a hole.  That's where I first got drunk.

That's the ocean I watched my brother swim, and drift, in.  That's where we played submarine.  That's where the undertow is wicked.  That's where we saw the world as stripes, broad colors of land, and sea, and sky.  That's where those fool folks have gone to die.