Nancy from Reedsville, Wisc., send us this story from her childhood:

As a kid growing up on a dairy farm in Northeast Wisconsin, we never took a family vacation, who would milk the cows? We couldn’t be gone. There were always plenty of chores to do, milking, barn cleaning, tractor driving and the ever popular baling hay. We always seemed to set temperature records on baling days. “I’m bored,” was not in our vocabulary. That phrase would elicit numerous possible jobs from my parents. Bored was a dirty word. If you said it you risked weeding the garden or some other evil job that you might not get stuck with if you kept quiet or disappeared outside.

It was on one of those hot and humid, muggy days that my mother would announce, “We’re going to the beach.” I loved the beach. It was only fifteen minutes away but to us, it was a vacation. Weather forecasts usually ended with cooler near the lake because Two Rivers, Wisconsin was naturally air conditioned.

The car was packed. Mother required a lawn chair, big straw hat, and we would usually fill a thermos with cold water and ice, old blankets to lay on the sand and a few towels, sand pails and shovels. Ready in no time, everyone piled into the car and in a few minutes, the beach!

There were so many things to do at the beach. Carefully you made your way across the hot sand and into the cold water. Some people were brave and ran in splashing, others waded in slowly. If your feet didn’t get numb in a few minutes you made your way into increasing deeper water letting the waves brake onto you and almost sweep you off your feet. If you ventured out far enough you could reach the first sandbar, the second, and sometimes the third. It was exciting to body surf your way back onto the shore.

Digging a hole near the water’s edge we watched the water rise up into the depression as if by magic. Wet sand was perfect for building. I wouldn’t call them castles but we made huge sand piles and walls, buried our feet and sometimes other body parts. All it took was a wiggle and the sand cast would crack and we would do it all over again.

One of the best things to do after we tired of digging and got chilled from the water was a beach scavenger hunt. Driftwood was prized with its winding smooth shaped wood grain. And oh, if by chance you found a dead fish to look at, that was super cool! I would find rocks polished and glittering, wet granite, basalt, and quartz. Sometimes we’d even find polished and rounded glass worn smooth by the waves. Now that was a prize! They glittered like gems and I would collect them, wanting to take them home. Feathers & shells were a super find and chasing the gulls a spectacular sport.

Unfortunately, our day at the beach would come to an end way too quickly. There were cows with tight udders at home waiting to be milked. We always milked on time. No exceptions short of a power outage. It was time to return home when Mother told us to towel off and shake off the sand, we obediently but with regret got into the car.

Ah, the beach! I took my children to the same beach years later hoping to show them the same wonders that I had experienced as a child. This time I was the one with the lawn chair. They grew up loving the beach as I had and I know that their children will too. I still seek out the beach after a stressful day at work or if I just need a pick me up. All those good memories are buried in the sand. I continue to enjoy the beach.

Thanks, Nancy, for that story.

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