Thoughts, Memories, Ravings of Big Daddy Graham: Checklist
Did you realize there are eight types of people heading to Sea Isle this Memorial Day weekend? And for the record, I believe most rentals are made up of both sexes. Oh, it might be five girls who actually go to the real estate office and pick up the keys and sign contracts, but believe me, by 9 o’clock that night it’s those same five girls and 37 dudes.
Here are the four major groups:
Married women
Single women
Married men
Single men
Then those four groups get separated even further:
Those who own a home and will be staying the entire summer.
Those who own and come down most weekends and also vacation a couple of weeks.
Groups who rent for the summer. Within those groups there will be a few who maybe are working in town for the summer and also a few who come down every weekend and maybe vacation a couple of weeks as well.
Groups that are made up of nothing but weekend warriors and then you can only pray they’re not living next to you (I have been on both sides of this equation).
But no matter what group you fall into, we all share a little tidbit in common. And that’s THE CHECKLIST that we upload into our minds of what to remember to bring down the shore when we’re packing up. Memorial Day weekend is the hardest pack job of them all, and here’s the reason why. No matter which of the groups you fall under, everyone gives a little extra thought of maybe taking something down there for the summer and leaving it there instead of lugging it back and forth.
OK, the first thing you have to do is decide whether it’s cheaper to buy various items up in the city and bring them down with you or just to buy “as needed” once you get down there.
For guys, this is a no-brainer. Not only do we never purchase anything up home, we certainly never buy anything but beer, liquor, pizza, and cheesesteaks on the island.
The girls, however, bring down enough shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, soap, and skin moisturizer to stock a Rite Aid. They bring down so much stuff that they overload the shower caddy to the point where it threatens to tear the nozzle right out of the wall. And that’s just for Memorial Day weekend.
Here’s how it works, ladies. We guys know how much you chicks hate the outdoor shower. This is my 15th summer of the home that I am currently living in, and you know how many times my wife and daughters have used the outdoor shower? Zilch. Nada. Never. I even had it rebuilt five years ago and they still won’t go anywhere near it.
I, having already used the outdoor shower, will be reading on the couch, waiting for the girls to get ready. And by “reading,” I mean I am halfway through the 1,178 pages of “The Lord of the Rings.”
On top of the three women inhabiting our house there are, generally speaking, two or three other girls down for the weekend. There are two indoor showers and one of those is the shower connected to the master bedroom. Why it’s called the “master” bathroom is beyond me, since the only time this “master” has ever seen the interior of this bathroom was when the realtor was showing it to us.
My wife immediately took over that bathroom and occasionally my wife would let another girl use the shower, but only after getting the written consent of the commissioner of Major League Baseball. So, it’s every woman to herself as far as using the remaining one bathroom.
Oh, the conversations I hear from the “fairer” sex.
“Where’s my #%&* conditioner?”
“Where’s my #%&* towel?”
“Where’s my #%&* shaver?”
So, I wait till all the women are firmly trenched in their beach chairs right up at the edge of the water where they chat endlessly about God knows what. I then walk back to the house and “relocate“ some of their shampoos, conditioners, and whatnot into the outdoor shower.
What other items accumulate?
Coolers. I now have 47 coolers scattered about my backyard, my shed and deck. Big ones. Small ones. Red ones. Blue ones. Sometimes I believe they procreate in the middle of the night.
Flip-flops. I spent all last summer going back and forth to the beach with one left size 12 and one right size 13. One blue and one red.
Sandals. Like a bird’s nest, the girls’ sandals grow in a corner near the front door. It’s gotta be over a hundred pairs dating back to 1957.
Sand bucket and shovels. Every time we have a guest who stays down, they feel compelled to get my twin grandkids a present. We now have enough sand buckets and shovels to dredge the 34th Street beach.
Beach chairs. I own one of the last single-dwelling ranch houses on the island. I believe that someday I’m going to turn my home into a museum. All I have to do is just figure out how much money I can charge and then how to present and narrate tours in my boxer shorts. My home is really not that much larger than your standard three-bedroom condo, but for some bizarre reason it has parking for five cars. Which makes me one of the most popular guys in town. I have two pairs of friends who own property “somewhere out on Route 9,” and when they drive to the beach they park at my house. Same goes for a day-trippers. What happens is that when Memorial Day weekend comes along, these folks go buy new beach chairs and decide to leave them next to my backyard shower for the entire summer instead of lugging them back and forth. Throw in my wife and daughters, who insist on buying new beach chairs every single damn summer. When Labor Day weekend comes rolling around? I have enough chairs to accommodate the right-field bleachers at Citizens Bank Park.
Beach bags. Every woman on earth, and probably other planets as well, insist that they need a new beach bag for the summer. However, they never throw away last summer’s bag. Let me tell you just how bad the pileup of bags has become. There are seven beach bags in my garage. Not my garage in Sea Isle, because I don’t have a garage in Sea Isle. No, I have seven beach bags in my garage in Mullica Hill! How did this happen?!
I will tell you this much. Every time I see a beach bag hanging in my Mullica garage in January, it reminds me that every day is a day closer to my beloved Memorial Day weekend. See you on the beach!
