Life amongst the hermit crabs...
Finally made it on the old family vacation. We're down at Hilton Head Island, a place I haven't visited in 20 years. This used to be a regular summer stop for the Storm family. Strangely, not much has changed. There's a Walmart and some new development along the way, but once you cross the bridge and hit the island it's still the time capsule it was when I arrived here as a young boy.
The clouds are dissolving away now and the salty air is mixing with fresh rain. Nice smell, good for the sinuses. Yesterday we swam with a small pod of dolphins (they sneak by within an arm's length - you can watch the patch of bubbles they leave, and then rise up out of the water to catch a breath), made a huge sand castle (dribble-method, it's the only way) for a bunch of hermit crabs, marveled at the awkward grace of the cranes and penguins... the island is teaming with life that you only see in the sullen environment of the zoo. And it's just milling around you. Alligators stew in the lakes by the houses, lizards crawl up the screen doors, tree frogs crank up the jams as you navigate the pine tree forests at night. For a kid, it's fantasy land. For an adult clinging to his childhood, it's therapy.
I can hear the lolling waters as I type this. Which is pretty rare, the water is stunningly calm and warm and perfect for my 4-year old who is on her second year of swimming. The few times a wave is large enough to knock her down she laughs and takes it square in the face... which pleases me to no end. Most of the waves tickle your feet and lap lovingly at the base of your sand castle. After yesterday's fortress I've promised that we'd build a grand palace this morning. I can't tell which I enjoy more - building the castle of the horrid destruction of it by the tide. I'm so giddy down here it's all mixed up in some joyful stew.
Last night we went to see Greg Russell, the singer songwriter who has been doing his show under the big oak tree in Harbour Town for 31 years. Heck, I probably saw one of his first shows. Eek, that dates me. Anyway, he looked and sounded pretty damn good. He had his 12 string guitar and I pondered how much he inspired me at the time to pick up a guitar in a few years. The way he worked the crowd, told corny jokes, handled hecklers... I never would've acknowledged it but he might have been a big influence. I've written a bagful of children's songs that haven't seen the light of day but I bet he would think they were alright. He pitched his tapes and DVDs and CDs quite a bit more than he used to (when I first saw him he didn't have anything to sell) but it was still a good show and very sweet to see my daughter laughing at all his jokes that I used to be mesmerized with.
It got me thinking about how this place used to inspire me as a child and young adult. As a kid I kept to my own imagination quite a bit but this was one of the few places that could draw me out and get me engaged 100%. I didn't need to slather on any layers of fantasy down here - it was (is) a magical experience on it's own. Eyes wide open I'd dig in the sand, dive in the waters, and chase lizards until I would collapse, exhausted, behind a curtain/lounge chair fort I'd made in the living room. There my Star Wars figures and drawing pads awaited and I'd work out all the scenarios my hyper imagination had built up.
When I got a small Casio keyboard one year and began trying to make music on it, a beautiful young woman of Asian descent showed me "Heart And Soul". I still remember her bright red nail polish on the tiny plastic keys. I practiced those chords a lot. Then I started moving my fingers apart... C became F which became G. I wrote a song from it - "On The Beach". It was an ode to Hilton Head Island.
A couple years later, on what was to be my last trip for a couple of decades, I was officially a musician and brought my bass guitar with me. I ended up writing several great riffs and recording them on the living room stereo. Many of them became songs for the Rush/Yes/Van Halen-esque band I was in at the time. I can still play a couple of them... but they haven't aged well.
Entering college was difficult. My insecurities swept me up and it felt like 7th grade all over again - starting at the very bottom of the social barrel. Hadn't I just escaped all this crap? Luckily I had a very kind, strange English professor. I wrote a story called "Turtle Beach" about the childhood joys of Hilton Head Island... and he loved it. He said I was a good writer. I shared it with my family and they loved it too. I was the first thing I had written that anyone really seemed to take notice of (besides the jokey comics I wrote in high school skewering various teachers & students). The island was once again fertile ground for my creative exploitation.
I've brought my sketchbook down but haven't had time to do much in it (afternoon naps are taking care of that - it's been years since the afternoon nap). Hopefully today will be the day. I'm hoping for more inspiration. I've managed to clear my head quite well these first couple days. The pace of this life has taken some getting used to but I'm there. I suspect I'll be thrusting a bunch of beach songs in the key of C on you soon.
The dolphins are calling. Time to trot down to the beach and start the latest sand fortress for the hermit crabs.
Dave
The clouds are dissolving away now and the salty air is mixing with fresh rain. Nice smell, good for the sinuses. Yesterday we swam with a small pod of dolphins (they sneak by within an arm's length - you can watch the patch of bubbles they leave, and then rise up out of the water to catch a breath), made a huge sand castle (dribble-method, it's the only way) for a bunch of hermit crabs, marveled at the awkward grace of the cranes and penguins... the island is teaming with life that you only see in the sullen environment of the zoo. And it's just milling around you. Alligators stew in the lakes by the houses, lizards crawl up the screen doors, tree frogs crank up the jams as you navigate the pine tree forests at night. For a kid, it's fantasy land. For an adult clinging to his childhood, it's therapy.
I can hear the lolling waters as I type this. Which is pretty rare, the water is stunningly calm and warm and perfect for my 4-year old who is on her second year of swimming. The few times a wave is large enough to knock her down she laughs and takes it square in the face... which pleases me to no end. Most of the waves tickle your feet and lap lovingly at the base of your sand castle. After yesterday's fortress I've promised that we'd build a grand palace this morning. I can't tell which I enjoy more - building the castle of the horrid destruction of it by the tide. I'm so giddy down here it's all mixed up in some joyful stew.
Last night we went to see Greg Russell, the singer songwriter who has been doing his show under the big oak tree in Harbour Town for 31 years. Heck, I probably saw one of his first shows. Eek, that dates me. Anyway, he looked and sounded pretty damn good. He had his 12 string guitar and I pondered how much he inspired me at the time to pick up a guitar in a few years. The way he worked the crowd, told corny jokes, handled hecklers... I never would've acknowledged it but he might have been a big influence. I've written a bagful of children's songs that haven't seen the light of day but I bet he would think they were alright. He pitched his tapes and DVDs and CDs quite a bit more than he used to (when I first saw him he didn't have anything to sell) but it was still a good show and very sweet to see my daughter laughing at all his jokes that I used to be mesmerized with.
It got me thinking about how this place used to inspire me as a child and young adult. As a kid I kept to my own imagination quite a bit but this was one of the few places that could draw me out and get me engaged 100%. I didn't need to slather on any layers of fantasy down here - it was (is) a magical experience on it's own. Eyes wide open I'd dig in the sand, dive in the waters, and chase lizards until I would collapse, exhausted, behind a curtain/lounge chair fort I'd made in the living room. There my Star Wars figures and drawing pads awaited and I'd work out all the scenarios my hyper imagination had built up.
When I got a small Casio keyboard one year and began trying to make music on it, a beautiful young woman of Asian descent showed me "Heart And Soul". I still remember her bright red nail polish on the tiny plastic keys. I practiced those chords a lot. Then I started moving my fingers apart... C became F which became G. I wrote a song from it - "On The Beach". It was an ode to Hilton Head Island.
A couple years later, on what was to be my last trip for a couple of decades, I was officially a musician and brought my bass guitar with me. I ended up writing several great riffs and recording them on the living room stereo. Many of them became songs for the Rush/Yes/Van Halen-esque band I was in at the time. I can still play a couple of them... but they haven't aged well.
Entering college was difficult. My insecurities swept me up and it felt like 7th grade all over again - starting at the very bottom of the social barrel. Hadn't I just escaped all this crap? Luckily I had a very kind, strange English professor. I wrote a story called "Turtle Beach" about the childhood joys of Hilton Head Island... and he loved it. He said I was a good writer. I shared it with my family and they loved it too. I was the first thing I had written that anyone really seemed to take notice of (besides the jokey comics I wrote in high school skewering various teachers & students). The island was once again fertile ground for my creative exploitation.
I've brought my sketchbook down but haven't had time to do much in it (afternoon naps are taking care of that - it's been years since the afternoon nap). Hopefully today will be the day. I'm hoping for more inspiration. I've managed to clear my head quite well these first couple days. The pace of this life has taken some getting used to but I'm there. I suspect I'll be thrusting a bunch of beach songs in the key of C on you soon.
The dolphins are calling. Time to trot down to the beach and start the latest sand fortress for the hermit crabs.
Dave
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