Nothing Could Be Finer Than to be in Carolina

Shades of oranges and pinks in the sky over the ocean signal the arrival of that special orb which begins to warm the sand and provide another sunny day.

Nothin’ could be finer than to be in Carolina, in the morning – always murmurs in my head as I stroll along the white sand of South Carolina’s Grand Strand for my daily early morning walk. Shades of oranges and pinks in the sky over the ocean signal the arrival of that special orb which begins to warm the sand and provide another sunny day. The gurgling morning tide eases its way back into the Atlantic Ocean, and the return of its spittle reveals so many objects for me to explore.

Foremost is the acrid odor of the seaweed which overrides the taste of salty sea air that I love so much. Shells crunching between my toes as I walk barefoot in the sand gain my attention. I want to run my fingers over the ridged scallop fan shells and gently rub the smooth whelks, not crush them. Many more creatures or their remaining shell homes become visible. And then I remember to check my watch; it is time to return.

As I approach our condo building, I see through the plate glass indoor pool area wall that they are gathering. The flock has begun to assemble for their daily morning water aerobics. A dozen or more matrons, including me, slide one by one into the silky almost 90-degree pool water. Some ooh’s and ahh’s bounce off the pool area walls, as each relishes the feel of the water flowing over her skin and lifting her spirits as well.

Soon, each has glided into her usual self-assigned space in the pool. The jabbering continues as each one makes some remark about the water’s special effect on her. The old hen notes how her joints are relieved of pain by the water’s support. The baroness, with her Russian accent, extols the luxurious feel, like that of a spa.

We old hens are young chicks again, as we exaggerate and gesticulate like children on a playground. Each grande dame performs her wall exercise moves as gracefully as any ballerina who is over 60, and in the water, that is. Now it is time for the activities that gave the Jug Lady group its name.

Leader Susan barks, “Grab your jugs, ladies!” With our homemade weights in our hands, we use the resistance of the water to help us gain strength. We each thrust jugs up into the air with a deliberate count of 1! 2! 3! 4! then down into the water with a healthy kerplunk, and all-around with the force of a tsunami.

After 40 minutes, we end, as we have done every day for 9 Snowbird Winters, with a healthy rendition of The Hokey Pokey – still singing our acapella best, with no electronic enhancement or funky backbeat or video screen projection. We thrive on the innervation we get from our camaraderie, from the sun shining on us, from the water flowing around us, and from the enduring question: What if The Hokey Pokey IS what it’s all about?