I decided to have some lunch on the pier at a little grill. The sign was a little scary but I figured if I stuck with the Chicken Sandwich then I probably wouldn't end up with any bait. Nearby someone decided that a warning sign needed embellishing.
After eating I walked out to the end of the pier and watched the fishermen, families, and tourists moving about. I saw a homeless man lying on a bench strumming a banjo, his grocery cart full of his life's possessions and his fishing pole close by. I couldn't hear what he was playing since I was listening to This American Life but I heard enough to know that he wasn't half bad. I walked through Seaside Park and ended up at Surfer's Point. Surfers and their dogs were all over the place - in the water and sitting of the tailgates of their trucks chillin'.
It was time to turn around and walk back. On my little jaunt I witnessed the full spectrum of life: I saw young children being introduced to the Pacific Ocean for their first time, young lovers walking lip-to-lip, Two beach marriages (One near the pier and one in someone's backyard ... urrr ... back-beach?), older couples sharing their lives in the sun, and elders clinging to their faltering memories of the sea breezes and ocean waves. At seaside park I saw the memories. The walk is lined with benches, each marked with a plaque dedicated to someone's memory. One couple are now forever, together, facing the beach I am sure they loved.
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