Erin and I were fortunate enough to get a last-minute invitation to spend Independence Day with some friends at their beach house in Manzanita, OR. Besides being one of my favorite places in the world, Manzanita is significant for being the first place I ever saw the Pacific Ocean. Growing up in the landlocked Paradise that is Minnesota, seeing the ocean- Pacific or Atlantic- was an unattainable luxury for a family of very modest means. The summer before I moved to Oregon, I came out to visit my then-girlfriend. We borrowed her father’s car and drove the two hours from Portland to Manzanita, where a heavy fog bank prevented me from actually seeing the ocean. We sat in the sand listened to the waves roll in…and yeah, I kinda thought I was in Heaven. I was 23 and finally experiencing something I’d always dreamed of. For a wide-eyed Minnesota boy that was “a big @!#$%(^ deal” (apologies to Vice President Joe Biden).
I moved here a year after that visit, and I’ve lived in Portland off and on (mostly on) for the past 32 years. During that time, I’ve been fortunate to have seen oceans in many different places around the world. While all were special in their own way, none of those experiences have ever topped being in Manzanita and listening to the waves crashing on the beach through the fog. On that day, I thought I was the luckiest person in the world.
Over the intervening years, I’ve been to the Oregon and Washington coasts on many occasions. No matter what the circumstances or reason for the visit, I always find myself traveling back in time to the day in August, 1983, when I realized a dream and created a memory that will undoubtedly be with me until my (hopefully far away) dying day. That part of my history has informed every trip I’ve ever taken to the Oregon and Washington coast, and thinking about it still brings a smile to my face.
These days, a trip to the beach is for me far more than a chance to escape the current heat wave in Portland (The high there yesterday was somewhere in the neighborhood of 95 degrees. Ugh.). It’s an opportunity to reconnect with the awe and wonder that wide-eyed, infinitely curious, and enthusiastically exploratory 23-year-old version of me felt on my first pilgrimage to the Pacific Ocean. I love revisiting that day, though the reality of it is no doubt a fair bit different from the romanticized reality I’ve constructed in my malleable and not altogether reliable memory.
My favorite place on this planet is Oceanside, a small, out of the way beach town just outside Tillamook and about a 90-minute drive from Portland. It’s the sort of place tourists don’t go because it’s not on the road to anywhere. If you’re going to Oceanside, it’s because it’s your destination- the road into town literally ends in the parking lot above the beach. No matter the occasion- weekend, holiday, or weekday getaway- Oceanside’s never crowded, certainly not in the way tourist meccas like Astoria, Seaside, or Cannon Beach can be on a beautiful summer holiday weekend like this one.
I don’t go to Oceanside with the idea of doing anything, because more often than not I’ll pull up a log and spend a few hours watching and listen to the waves. I’ve whiled away many an afternoon with my eyes closed and my senses focused on the rhythm of the waves- in and out, in and out, forever and ever, changeless, timeless, and immutable. I’m fascinated by the knowledge that the rhythm has always been thus. The frequency of the waves crashing ashore may change with the weather, but the waves never change. They’ve been a constant since before the dawn of Mankind and will remain so long after we’re gone.
There’s a permanence to the ocean- the waves go in, the waves go out- that we mere mortals will never know and can only marvel at. I love watching the waves and thinking that the first sentient being to ever stand in the same spot would have seen exactly what I am at that moment. There’s a rhythm and constancy which makes me feel small and insignificant, though not in a bad way. It reminds me that no matter how important I may think I am or what may be going on around me, nothing will change what I see before me. The waves look and sound today as they did thousands of years before I was even a twinkle in my Daddy’s eyes…and they’ll be here long after I’m returned to the dust. In and out, in and out…without pause or interruption for as long as there’s been water in the ocean. We will (with any luck) grow old and eventually die, but the waves will continue to roll ashore as if nothing’s changed…because nothing will have.
Being here in Manzanita for Independence Day was pretty special. Erin and I spent a relaxed evening on the beach, surrounded by friends gathered around a roaring fire. We watched the sunset and the fireworks that followed, and we talked about the things people talk about when they’re relaxed and enjoying the company of people they care about. The beach was crowded- drones flew overhead, people raced radio-controlled cars, fireworks crackled and popped all around us- but it didn’t feel that way. Even as we were in the company of thousands, the sense of shared celebration made a sizable crowd that would normally stress me out feel like a community.
In a few hours, Erin and I will pack up my car and head back to Portland to face the heat and the reality of our day to day lives. Right now, though, for at least this small sliver of time, none of that matters. I can and will enjoy thinking about how a memory from so very long ago has continued to evolve still while still holding meaning and significance for me. Perhaps someday we’ll decide to buy a beach house and that memory will become my daily reality. For now, though, I’m enjoying the moment- being around friends, their children, and the ocean.
I’m not certain it gets any better than this. No, it most certainly doesn’t suck to be Jack
