We're on the Road to Nowhere

It is that time of year again, when you notice the sun going down a little sooner, the mornings a little more chilly. We make the annual Labor Day trip to Bayville to officially close out the summer. We consume enough crustaceans, meats, pork and beer to make Anthony Bourdain blush. With culinary experience from the Caribbean, France and the firehouse, we feast on smelly cheese, cured meats and whatever we can create from last night's pasta. We play music, try to remember the words to the songs we always seem to forget, tell the same stories and wish that time didn't fly so damn fast.


This is always a rite of passage to the fall. We begin our summers at the same location, when the water is too cold for non-polar bear swimmers, the sun too harsh for the spring virgin skin and the pants a little too tight from the hearty winter solstice meals. No matter what time of year (and this includes Christmas) we always have music on the beach.


Music and Bayville kind of go together. It seems everyone either plays it, sings it or enjoys it. If the music isn't on the iTunes, it's being played live while we all sing along. Yes, a sing along. Sometimes we don't even know the words, but we all sit together on the deck and laugh (and drink) and sing (and drink) and drink (and drink) and eat and tell Jasper the dog to stop barking.

A few songs and artists have become the staple: Ripple, some Cat Stevens, Johnny Cash and for some reason, the Talking Heads We're on the Road to Nowhere. Whether it is just fun to sing WOO and HEY at the freaking top of your lungs while the neighbors watch, I don't know, but it's cathartic and kind of like primal scream therapy. It's also enjoyable to watch people walk down the beach and look us with amusement. Music, friends, laughs - it doesn't get any better than that.

Every now and then, we'll try something new or someone will stop by with a harmonica and all of a sudden we have Tom Petty or Bob Dylan. It's the magic of music. It happened at Christmas when the guitar came out, the fireplace was roaring and we all stopped to sing Imagine (then I ran into the Sound). It will happen in the middle of winter when someone wants to hear Hendrix or Clapton or the Beatles. Yes, I will run into the sound again in the middle of winter, but people break free of their boundaries, they laugh, don't care who sees them making ridiculous faces or sing off key.

I guess the point it, I love that Bayville is music. We have created a tradition of bringing in the summer and then packing it up and sending it away for the winter. Maybe it's because it is so elementary. Food, music and so many characters that Jerry Seinfeld couldn't keep up with.

We will see you in a equinox and a solstice, summer. Thank you for some great memories this year.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWtCittJyr0