Some People Do Not Need to Be Rescued

Monday morning I woke up super early and headed to the beach. It was a rough night of “rest” to start off a week of vacation.

When I arrived at the beach, high school sweethearts were walking their dogs and grandfathers were teaching their grandchildren to fish. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the ocean whispered as it touched the shore like a mother feeling the skin of her newborn child for the first time.

A few miles away, a coastguard boat hovered. Moments later, a helicopter flirted its way up the shore, turning around just as it passed boat. Then, it began to approach the boat, dropping altitude until it was harassing the water, teasing it with rough pleasure.

Two people in wetsuits jumped out of the helicopter. It then became clear that there was someone else in the water. The boat was not alone. Minutes later, another rescue helicopter replaced the first helicopter. This time there was a basket swinging beneath the gentle giant. The Dewey beach lifeguards were practicing an open water save.

Ironically, today, the lifeguards almost had to rescue two beach-goers that drifted off in an inflatable tube. However, this time, it was not a test of strength or skill. It was a test of faith.

After several attempts to get the couple’s attention, the lifeguard sunk back into her chair, signally she wasn’t extremely worried about it. Meanwhile, her boss in the neighboring stand continued to blow his whistle, motioning her to jump back up and join in the whistle chorus.

Once the couple finally reached the shore, my friend Sarah and I overheard their conversation about their journey at sea. It was a father and his child on a deep sea voyage. They were safe, except for the jellyfish; and his years as a sailor in Connecticut prepared him for those fiesty jellyfish.

He did not want to come back to the safety of the solid shore. He knew the risks of drifting away - the uncertainty of the undertow, the sharks, and the other mysterious creatures of the eastern shore. He just wanted to spend some time in the wild.

Although these uncertainties were risks in the eyes of the lifeguard, it was an adventure in the eyes of one father. He would eventually drift back to solid ground where his family was waiting.

I think we can all learn something from the Connecticut sailor and the lifeguard. Next time I’m drifting away I’m going to ignore the fiesty jellyfish and wait for the ocean current to bring me back ashore. And next time you’re drifting away, I might decide to take my chances against the undertow.