A day at the beach.

This is a true story as I recall the events.

A day at the beach.

This is a true story as is most of my writing thus far. 

When I was a youngster in grade school, we lived a few miles away from a popular Rhode Island recreational park that included three horseback riding facilities, many, one-day camp sites and a fresh water beach, with a lifeguard and a snack bar complete with jukebox.

On one particular Saturday, when I was approximately eight years old, an older female relative took me for a walk to the beach, and I think part of the plan was to teach me how to swim. There was never any type of organizational instructions or training for swimming in school or cub scouts, etc. and my family was not in a financial bracket that would have allowed for membership to a YMCA or any such clubs.

I remember that older relative of mine that day, and her upon our arrival at the beach, her meeting up with a boy that she knew from school and them both sort of half trying to teach me how to swim and me being launched off of someone’s shoulders and having a great deal of fun until I was launched to an area where my feet did not touch the bottom with my head above water. That put a gigantic fright in me and pretty much spelled the end of any enthusiasm that I had for that pastime for that day at least. I spent the rest of the time there close to the shore, while not paying attention to any of their pleas to come deeper into the water.

The walk home was a long one for an eight-year-old with little legs and I straggled way behind my older relative. I can remember coming around a bend and seeing a young man with black hair and a full black beard with his arms wrapped completely around this older relative of mine and all I could think of was, Oh another boyfriend of hers and some horseplay.

As she was being pulled into the woods, she started screaming really loudly and stamping her feet and I think that between the sound of my feet on the pavement when I began to run towards them and her slamming her heels hard on his feet, he let her go and ran across a field into some far-off woods. I can remember her crying on the way home and I remember police detectives coming to our house and asking about the assailant’s description and me mentioning that the man resembled some people that lived nearby that area and maybe he could be a relative of them which was quickly pooh pooh’ed by one of the police detectives and my mother. That is all I really remember but one cold hard fact has always remained steadfast in my mind and that is. that the world is filled with all kinds of people. Some good and some bad and one should be vigilant and on guard against the bad ones.

 

Rev. Edward McClelland 02/21/2023