Summer Idyll

Manchester-by-the-Sea is so called to distinguish it from any other Manchester, as though there could be any confusion.

There could not be.

The beach is called "Singing Beach" because of the sound the dry sand makes when you kick it. The sound is more of a bark or a squeak than a song, though, but I guess "Squeaking Beach" doesn't sound quite so inviting.

There are at least six different varieties of sand grain on Singing Beach: large clear crystalline, irregular beige, orange, yellow, white, and fine black. Maybe I want to study sand. I would look very closely at the types and kinds of grains, how the sand falls and piles into drifts, what the critical components of the squeak are . . .

The tide was very low when we arrived and there were many wonderful channels draining the beach into the sea. Looking down at the channels made me think of flying over North Dakota, the vast fans of the tributaries like the vasculature of the body; the vasculature of the Earth. The water carved runnels through the softest sand, and made bright braided shapes as it flowed to the sea.

It doesn't matter what the precise course of the water is, as long as it drains the beach and runs to the sea - and from that randomness, an intricate pattern arises. Analogous to the formation of vessels through tissue? Where the sea is the high end of the chemotactic gradient and the tissue is the sand. Anyway, that is the hypothesis.

I love the beach. We could even swim in the water, which is unusual for the North Atlantic coast in June. Today there were waves for wave riding and the water was so clear I could see my feet. I don't think I have ever seen my feet in New Jersey. And no green flies, even.

Manchester is about as quaint as it's possible to be and not implode from cheesiness. It's got its own little bank and it's own little non-chain supermarket, and an ice cream shop and a Dunkin' Donuts (of course), and a used book store called "Manchester-By-The-Book". (Get it?) A beautiful softball field and a scenic marina. Of course, it's rich as hell. That's why it's so nice. It's so rich that it still has non-chain stores (aside from Dunkie's, but I don't think towns in MA are allowed to be incorporated unless there's a Dunkie's). It's so rich it has an ice cream store with no air conditioning. You know what I mean? I fucking love Manchester-by-the-Sea, although I know if I really lived there I'd probably be constantly annoyed with my bourgie-ass neighbors. However, I reckon I could still live there quite happily, at least during the summer, if/when I win the lottery.