My goal on Thanksgiving was simple: to eat at least four different kinds of pie. As it turned out, I had not anticipated the banana custard, the ice cream and white potato pudding. Or that, by the end of the weekend of leftovers, I would have surpassed my goal so well that I could leave out the words "different kinds of."
So when I heard that the inevitable had happened - the southern tip of South Beach had merged with the northern tip of South Monomoy Island - I saw it as an excuse to lose a pie or two from my bathroom scale.
I like to tell myself that every year I've walked from the Chatham Lighthouse to the end of South Beach since it first became possible. During the summer of 1991, I even waded across a narrow channel in front of the lighthouse to the island that was South Beach, to go body surfing. But those yearly treks skipped a few times. The last time was on a brilliant afternoon of March 2004.
Every time I have gone, the beach had grown. So the walk became longer as I have grown older. Probably for the best, then, that South Beach collided with Monomoy.
The former Southway -->
Portrait in Frustration -->
Beach Glass -->