The jetty

A friend who follows my blog wrote me an email suggesting that I write something about the jetty at Main Beach. She went on to talk about what a place of refuge that had been for her, all through the tumultuous teenaged years when she would walk down there for solitude and a place to cry. The truth is that I think everyone who grows up on the East End finds a special place to go when life closes in on them, but those special spots are as different as we are and everyone could tell their own story.

I often went to the beach too (I still do!), but didn't usually walk all the way to the jetty. I found my solitude along the way somewhere, on a dune overlooking the breakers, shielded from the wind. Or even sitting in my car gazing out at the surf. For others I'm sure there were special spots on the bay side, or perhaps they roamed the woods in northwest back when it really was woods as opposed to all those house lots. It was someplace in their neighborhood where they could be alone with their thoughts and contemplate the latest crisis in their young lives, which in my memory was a pretty common occurance.

I think there are those places everywhere in the world, where spurned lovers go to mourn, or confused teens go to contemplate the meaning of life. I seem to remember that it was the Brooklyn Bridge in the movie "Saturday Night Fever". But I doubt that anyplace else in the world has any more beautiful places to sit and puzzle over life's mysteries and difficulties than we do right here.

The jetty at Main Beach seems as good as any. I wonder how many people use it still?