Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay

Watching the sun set, dangling feet, scolding birds. I could have stayed until all the stars came out, but my friends drew me away to walk off dinner on the beach. As the sky darkened, we crossed the dunes. There was a ring around the moon that lit our way down to the water. White caps rolled in over my ankles. Salt kissed my cheeks. We stood staring at the sea, mesmerized. It became a part of us as the night surrounded us, a velvet blanket of crashing sound and mist. Finally, we tore ourselves away. I wish I could have stayed.

Broken yet perfect

The beach was littered with broken shells. Abalone glowed in shards of pearl, tangerine, gold and green. Sand dollars made nothing but change. One small piece of what was once a tremendous shell had been tumbled by the sea into a smooth rock. Everywhere I walked lay beautiful, broken homes. They begged a story like remains of pottery found at the site of an ancient city. Where did they come from? What was inside? Why did it break? These natural vessels of white and tan, russet and cream that churned with each breaking wave were a constant source of fascination. The closer I looked, the deeper I could see. Such fragile beauty, so complete in their imperfection, broken yet perfect. Just like us.

Here on the Mid Coast

I don't remember who started the whole "Mid-Coast" thing, but I still like it. Back when I ran a record store and Nelly was hitting it big, we started talking about the Mid Coast. It wasn't rap from the East Coast or West Coast..... St. Louis had its own style. But I just like the image. The river feels like it's mine. I've canoed it, ran along its sandy Illinois side beach, played in the Chain of Rocks, partied on its cobblestone shore, waded illegally into its muddy water on a hot 4th of July, and watched it roll past again and again. The Mid Coast, it ain't so bad.