The Sand at the Foot of Union Ave.

The 2014 Shade family vacation to the shores of the Atlantic Ocean is now history, as Larry and I shared a rented cottage in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, with the lovely Madelyn Simone and her parents. The monotony of our interminable Interstate drive quickly dissipated as the scent and sound of the ocean washed away our weariness that first night. We were on vacation, we were together, and for a few short days, all was well with the world.

The word vacation evolves from words that mean freedom or exemption. It wasn’t until the mid-nineteenth century that vacations became accessible for middle class Americans, often with a religious component, part of the reason for our choice of destination. I’m especially glad our Salvation Army forebears decided on a shore location for their camp meeting gathering.

Methodists founded the Old Orchard Beach and Camp Meeting Association in 1873, the same year the Boston and Maine Railroad came to Old Orchard Beach, thus making it an easily-reached destination. In 1885, (only five years after the fledgling mission came to the United States), the Salvation Army began camp meetings at the site, and our attendance at a mandated conference many years ago first introduced us to its allure.

For thirty-five years, our family lived an itinerant life in ministry, appointed to our place of residence and work by our denominational leadership. As our children grew up, they resided in eight different parsonages in three states, but every summer, for at least twenty-five years, we have made the pilgrimage to Maine, where the sand is always warm and welcoming at the foot of Union Avenue.

In today’s exploit-driven culture, many people look for exotic locations to explore during their vacation days. Not so for our family. Part of what draws us to this place is the sameness, the routine of our days away. The first taste of Rocco’s Pizza, the scent of fried seafood, and descent of the seagulls over our left-over French fries at the Clambake all contribute to a sense of tradition in Old Orchard.

Thanks to our contemporary phone navigation apps, we no longer get lost en route to Two Lights (a long-standing family tradition), but its age-old rocks provide a place for reflection and for photos that measure the growth of our family from year to year. Yet most days, we don’t even get in the car, walking to the beach, the pier, the grove (as the old-timers still call the Pavilion), and even the corner store for another loaf of bread.

While she is not usually an early riser, Madelyn greeted me one morning with a kiss, and while her parents slept on, we donned our hoodies and quietly snuck out of the house for an early morning walk. What fun it was to watch the beach come to life through her inquisitive eyes. Madelyn delighted in seeing how close she could get to the waves without getting soaked, but she wasn’t too successful. As we dripped our way back up the hill to our cottage, I stored that hour of time, even with its ensuing shivers, among my cherished memories.

Part of the rhythm of my week in Maine includes a solitary sojourn to the sunrise before the rest of the world awakens. Since I refuse to set an alarm on vacation, I’m never quite sure which day this will occur, but an internal clock somehow nudges me awake for that yearly appointment. In landlocked Ashland County, there are days when I hunger for the power of the ocean, her immensity, her rhythms, and her cleansing. I’m grateful that as I waded through the tides, her healing balm did its work.

As Maya Angelou reminds us, “Each person deserves a day away . . . Each of us needs to withdraw from the cares which will not withdraw from us.” Whether at the shore, on a mountaintop, or under the silver moon in our backyard, a withdrawing space offers freedom from the burdens of daily cares, even if we can only be there in memory. Stay-cation or vacation, here’s wishing you a day away every now and then.