From the top of the dune path, we see my wife’s sister Jody down below, engaged in pleasant conversation with another woman. The beach is very crowded today, as you would expect. It’s July 4th weekend. 

We head down the sandy hill and weave our way through the sea of people to catch up. When we get to her, Jody explains that the woman she just met is  part of a multifamily group almost as big as our own beach crew, but half of them are from Philadelphia, the other half from England. The Philadelphian son is taking his English-born girlfriend a few miles south to the Cape May lighthouse, where they first met. There, he’s going to ask her to marry him. 

Jody learned these secrets in her conversation with the woman (the groom’s mother) and quietly filled the rest of us in as we wiggled our beach umbrellas into ground just a few feet from the English-American clan.

We are in Wildwood, NJ. It’s the holiday weekend, and the beach is crawling with people the way ants smother a piece of candy on the sidewalk.

It’s 90° and very humid; a tough day at the beach if it wasn’t for the cold, rejuvenating  ocean water. Veteran beach-goers like us usually come to the beach around noon, skipping the worst heat of the day, and cashing in on the more gentle mid-afternoon sun. This way, we can enjoy the beach time with more breezes and fewer people until at least six o’clock. But like I said, it’s Fourth of July weekend, and if you don’t hit the sand early you may not get a spot. We’re at North Wildwood, where the beach is literally a quarter mile shorter than the ultra-wide span a mile down the road in Wildwood. 

The international crew beside us sounds exotic as half of them speak with an English accent, the others with very heavy Philly/Delaware Valley vowels. Their beach canopy covers a table, which supposedly was set up to celebrate someone’s birthday – but it’s a ruse. When the soon-to-be-engaged couple comes back from the lighthouse, the table will have been turned into an engagement party centerpiece in the sand.

The beach feels like an oven, but nobody cares.  Down by the water, everything is pleasant and cooler. Many hang out there; taking naps, telling jokes, playing games, reading and snacking.  Thousands of families, each spanning several generations, are celebrating life together in the same spot. 

It’s rare. It’s fun. It’s beautiful!

The newly engaged couple returns to explosive cheers, happy tears and applause. By this time most of the beach neighbors had found out about the proposal and were eager to offer their congratulations. The engagement party proceeds with hugs, pics, and pizza.

It all continues for hours on end. As it does, there’s more and more open space on the sand as people pack up and get ready for dinner. By the time my favorite hour arrives, the 6 o’clock beach population is only a fraction of what it was.

Driven by the sunset, the sky over this giant sandbox on the edge of the world’s greatest swimming pool turns pink and purple, streaked with a stubborn blue.  A few dolphins breach the surface, drawing admiration from onlookers as they pass by under the skies’ colorful canopy.

Soon the beach will be empty. Everything that happened here will become a memory; a family story to be told along with all the others.

Tomorrow, we’ll do it again. 

Hey- don’t forget to read this fine print…OR……I hate self promotion but……..

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