A Few Days One Summer

A Few Days One Summer

I took my camera to the beach again yesterday. Not so many people as on the weekend, of course. I got out of the car with my little toy camera feeling silly and vulnerable. I wouldn't take any photos, I thought. The other day had been an aberration. A guy alone can't just walk around on the beach with a camera and expect good things to happen.

I saw two fellows going to the water with their boards. I asked them if I could take a photograph. No problem. OK, I thought, that one photo was worth the trip. It will be good, I thought. And then another fellow. Oh my, these will be truly heroic. I saw a girl step out of her pickup truck. Alone. A girl at the beach in a big pickup truck alone. I wanted to photograph her, but before I could screw up my courage, she had walked to the water. I see a girl with a big board. Sure, she says. Can you turn this way? She is youngish and her mother is with her but won't get in the picture. OK.

The girl in the pickup walks out of the water. OK, I tell myself. "Hey, I don't want to bother you. . . ." No problem. She comes to look at the back side of the camera. She wants to see the photo. "Film," I tell her. Oh.

A group of people lying about in the very shallow surf. A girl with a board and a convertible. More boy surfers. Most are curious about the camera. I take email addresses, promise to send images.

It is a curious little beach, I know, because cars can drive on it. There is fishing. There is surfing. I've decided to go back more, try a series. I think I will call it "A Few Days One Summer." How many photos make a series?

In a little while, I was drained. I realized how much psychological energy I had spent in a short time. I was done for the day. I could do no more.

Driving home in the beater, windows down, hot wind whipping through the car lulling me to sleepiness, I was happy. Sunset. Dinner alone. The night. I thought about the photos and felt silly. What was I doing, I wondered? Why would someone spend time doing such a thing? Ridiculous. I am a ridiculous man.

And so I woke long before dawn, though the dawn is finally here now, a rosy hue coloring the clouds in a cobalt sky. Perhaps I will feel better with the sun.