National Seashell Day & the beach with my mom

"I love to watch the little waves wash over my big feet,” my mom once said as we stood on Cocoa Beach. It was true: she had feet like a couple of skateboards, but those natural flippers probably made her the strong and graceful swimmer that she was. She took us to the beach every chance she got and when I get older I took her. 

Naturally we collected seashells, sometimes a few, sometimes enough that we needed a discarded Coke cup to carry them in. The best were the ones we left behind, watching them dig themselves back into the sand because an animal was still living inside them. (On a related note, wonderful science writer Jason Bittel recently wrote a great piece about the problems with harvesting 'aquarium fish,' "How About We Just Leave Dory Alone?") 




 These shells are from the gorgeous collection at Clearwater Marine Aquarium , which I got to visit recently when I was on a National Geographic story about sea turtles and which I’m putting up today for National Seashell Day. I wish my mom could have seen these. Her love nature was one of her most endearing qualities; and that she would have jokingly suggested smashing the glass case and pocketing some of the shells before we left to return to the ocean, the shells and the coveted cold beer at the end of the day.

Of course I miss her - who wouldn’t miss someone like that? But she’s still with me and never more than when I’m at the beach, picking up shells, having a swim and letting the big waves knock me off my little feet. 
Martha & me, Breezy Point, Brooklyn, 1965.

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