First Published in the Beverly Citizen, May 18, 2006
By Esther C. Baird
Word Count: 797
Well it’s spring, time to start thinking about our beaches. When we first moved here I was dazzled that there were three beaches within walking distance of my home. My childhood beach memories consist of fighting for towel space at the Jersey Shore a few Saturdays out of the summer. The fact that Beverly has multiple beaches feels extravagant.
That said, there is a small point of clarification I believe would benefit our town and its beach front surplus. It relates to the signage located at the corner of Abbott and Lothrop which reads, “Welcome to our Public Way.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for welcoming people wherever possible in our town but I take umbrage with the word,’ Way’. When used in such a context, I really expect a path that will get me from Point A to Point B.
That was certainly what I assumed last summer when, extremely pregnant, I decided to amble down the Public Way. I had just been to Dunkin Donuts to get my daily frozen coffee and thought a walk back to Dane Street along the water would be just the thing to stay cool. Right beyond the sign in question were a set of benches followed by a set of stairs that went down to what I interpreted to be the Public Way. At first glance it looked like the stairs crossed a short beach and led to a paved sidewalk running along the ocean wall. The wall in turn, ran under a high chain-link fence to keep said walkers off the lawns of the fortunate few who lived sea-side. The net result was that once I was on the Public Way I was committed. So, frozen drink in hand, purse slung over my shoulder, I plodded down the sidewalk. But here’s the twist, the sidewalk on the Public Way only goes halfway back to Dane Street Beach before it peters out in a rocky, submerged mess.
Naturally when the sidewalk did begin to vanish under my feet, I didn’t turn around. My pregnant brain was frazzled and I did not want to retrace my steps. So I had to wade through a few inches of water when the sidewalk ultimately ended, I was hot and the ice cold water around my ankles felt good. I kept walking and found myself at yet another watery section. This time however, when I started through the ankle deep water, in a surprising sploosh, the ground fell away while simultaneously a wave crashed in. Before I knew it I found myself bobbing like an inflatable whale out in shoulder deep water. I had the presence of mind to quickly hold my coffee drink up so as not to mix the salty water with the whip cream but, in a fascinating show of the pregnant woman’s priorities, I did not think to save my purse with the cell phone in it.
After I heaved myself out of the water onto the jetty, I tried to think rationally. Since there couldn’t be too many pregnant women stranded on jetties in the Beverly Harbor, waiting didn’t feel like a reasonable option. I could either go back through the water or forward over the jetty built of wet slippery boulders. Neither was enticing, but being swept to sea held slightly less appeal than getting wedged between some rocks. So I began the slow process of climbing towards Dane Street beach. I finally emerged on the sand in my dripping clothes with a purse that was draining water and rock slime covering my arms and legs. I looked like the creature from the Black Lagoon, only pregnant and with a frozen coffee.
In retrospect I realize I made a string of fairly bad decisions. I should have turned around. I should have let go of my drink in lieu of my cell phone. I should have never gotten off my couch that morning. Still, I’d like to assign some blame to whoever defined a small, square, park-like place that has nothing to do with traversing between beaches, as a Public Way . The sign ought to say, “Welcome to our Public Perch” or perhaps, “Public Point” or at worst, “Public Swimming Hole”. But I can assure you, the one thing it is not, is a “Way”.
I am still thrilled by all the beaches Beverly has to offer. I can’t wait till I can take my daughter down to play in the surf. The difference is this summer, as opposed to when she was yet-to-be-born, we’ll stick to the places that are truly Public and I’ll keep my cell phone in a waterproof bag . . . just in case.
If you have any suggestions or comments about The Baird Facts please contact Esther at: esclaw@hotmail.com