Before I dropped Jeanine off at her grandfather’s tiny house on East 77th Street in Harvey Cedars, I pulled over somewhere in Surf City and parked near an entrance to the water. I would have liked to keep this part of my routine to myself, but Jeanine enjoyed seeing it when she could. I guess it was kind of funny. Anyway, I took off all my clothes, wrapped myself in a towel (getting jeers from Jeanine, who tugged at it relentlessly) and trekked to the water.
The key is to make sure you actually wash your hair in a bathroom sink later in the day. On your lunch break, for example. For the body, ice cold saltwater just about obliterates any odors you might be skulking around with. Sometimes I brought soap just in case, but aren’t most soaps just different configurations of salt? Who cares. I washed up and felt the mid-May breeze blow dry me off, all while Jeanine shamelessly took pictures of me in my most vulnerable state from the dunes. I won’t say anything other than the water was obviously cold, and the pictures certainly weren’t taken because of anything impressive happening. The sun was getting a bit higher now as I walked back to the car, and the seagulls began their continuous stream of gaffs. The haze and mist of dawn faded into the coolly-dry, early day clearness that makes you feel alive.
Nick Denardi 