Throughout my years of tying the knot for couples young and old, I have had the opportunity to perform that task in a wide variety of places. Among them are the Duke Gardens, small living rooms, big …
Thanks for reading Chatham County’s leading news source! Please consider supporting community journalism by subscribing to the News + Record – you can do so by clicking here.
Throughout my years of tying the knot for couples young and old, I have had the opportunity to perform that task in a wide variety of places. Among them are the Duke Gardens, small living rooms, big churches, small churches, in front yards and pastures and horse barns when a monsoon drove us inside, alongside bays and sounds, on golf courses, at bed and breakfast inns, two miles from home, 200 miles from home and 2,000 miles from home.
But so far, however and thankfully, I haven’t been asked to conduct a wedding on the beach. I guess if I were asked, I probably would oblige but, it seems to me, there are a couple or three drawbacks to that.
One is sand.
Specifically, the possibility and, for me, the very real probability of getting it — lots of it — in my clothes.
Of course, I guess conducting a wedding on the beach wouldn’t be like wallowing around in the sand when you’re lying on your towel — which the wind keeps moving around even when you’re on it trying to hold it down or when you’re going in and coming out of the ocean umpteen times a day and you’re all wet.
I’ve experienced both of those events numerous times and in the process have accumulated significant amounts of sand in my shorts. And getting sand in your underdrawers and bathing suit ranks right up there with pulling hair out of your ear lobes. I just don’t think I’d like having sand in my shorts if I were wearing my official “Marrying Sam” monkey suit.
A second thing that would be a bit of a bother in a wedding on the beach is the aforementioned wind and what it does to sand, especially that part about getting it into your pants or eyes.
And a third — did I mention? — would be the sand.
Bottom line is I don’t like sand. Many folks in our part of the world do, however; they have a real love for the beach. Can’t get enough of it. Moan when they’re away. I hear them talk about it; I see the pictures of their sandy feet complete with designer toenails they post on their social media pages; I see the pictures of the seafood meals they plan to wolf down. It’s a good thing we’re different, I suppose.
Sand at the beach and I have a long history and relationship. When I was a youngster and our little family went to Carolina Beach for our every-other-year vacation there (the other years we went to the mountains), I became well acquainted with sand. I got lots of it in my swimwear. As a matter of fact, I used to get so much sand in my shorts that I was classified as an environmental hazard for destroying the beach. Lifeguards and park service folk asked me to limit my time on the beach and to bring back enough sand so big turtles could lay their eggs.
And even after leaving the beach and returning to the house where we were staying and taking an outdoor shower, with swim suit still attached, at the outdoor showerhead attached to the post at the bottom of the stairs, I still had sand close to me.
As in, on me.
That is why, even today, I don’t get onto the beach or into the water. Having to cross the sand would be a sure-fire way to get sand in more places than just my shoes. And the fact that there are things that could eat or at least seriously bite me that swim around in three feet of water or less is another reason I don’t get into the water anymore.
So, if you want to do either or both, have at it. But if you want to get married on the beach, I may not be your man.
A cow pasture, though, I think I could handle.
If you’re careful where you step.