Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Saying Goodbye

I've been putting off writing this post for a week now. I've been avoiding it because the topic is too painful to fully comprehend. It is not on a family law topic, but it so deeply affects our family, our whole, Earth bound family.

A week ago tonight, my family and I were wrapping up our stay in San Destin. We spent the week there as I attended the Family Law Bar's annual seminar on family law topics. It's kind of a who's who of family law in Georgia.

So, Tuesday night, we took our last walk on the beach before we left for home the next morning. We watched couples walking hand in hand. We watched families chase crabs on land and in sea, often catching them only to scream as the crabs did their crabby best. We must have walked a mile east along the shore before we turned around and headed back.

And all the time, I tried to be mindful of what I was experiencing, the sound of the waves crashing endlessly on shore. The smell of the salty sea air. The feel of the sugar white sand beneath my bare feet and squishing between my toes, the water as it rushed to shore, sweeping over my feet and ankles. I tried to be mindful and to bore the experience deep into my memory. For I knew that far more likely than not, this was the last time in perhaps my lifetime, I would walk along these shores in this manner.

Though these were the shores of my childhood, they were within hours of being obliterated, ruined by the greed of big business, corruptness of government bought and sold, and our own pathetic expediency.

I felt very much like the Native American on that old Public Service Announcement. As he watched the pollution roll on shore, a tear trickles down his cheek. The pain in my heart felt immeasurable.

And so, as we reached the place in the sand where we headed back to the condo, I turned and faced the great ocean one last time and said goodbye.


  1. 'Sad commentary as you come back to Atlanta's Orange Alert for smog, Michael. Oil is the culprit in that, too, along with lack of political will. It is an apathy that has been bought and paid for by big business and spurred on by our own warped values. We are all complicit, I'm afraid.

  2. We can do what we can. I believe there are many who choose the best they can given their available options. For me, an example is carrying a bag along my walks through the neighborhood. Picking up litter along the way. Gives me a sense of purpose and a reason beyond only my own fitness. The enormity of the Gulf disaster is more than I can bare to keep in mind, however.