It's Labor Day. The holiday that unofficially marks the end of summer and a start to the shifting of gears into winterizing boats, closing summer cottages, the putting away of summer clothes, starting school and even thinking of Halloween costumes. The weather, however, wasn't ready to shift gears. No, the weather was a balmy 80's, even more in the sun. Since the Cape gets the gulf stream, the water temperature was in the 70's. Heaven can take notes.
Taking advantage of the perfect weather, the family sailed to Washburn Island. The only people on the beach were people who come by boat, making it one of the least populated beaches on Cape Cod. That's the attraction. We almost have an entire beach to ourselves. This time, the family brought every beach toy that wasn't nailed down. Beach umbrellas, blankets, beach chairs, towels, hats, slippers, snorkels, balls, frisbees, pails, shovels, body boards, tubes, paddle boards, pails, shovels, fishing poles, fishing lures, nets, and a partridge in a pear tree. I'm kidding about the partridge, but we did have a flotation tube shaped like a swan.
And we settled down for the day. Music played on the kids' MP3 player. Grandpa drank a cold one. The children took off down the beach with pails and nets. The boat was secured by the anchor buried deep ashore. The children's father took his fishing pole and waded deep into the channel by following a sand bar. That sand bar stretched out into the ocean. Even I was curious enough to follow its length out to where the water temperature cooled and the color of the water changed from sea green to dark blue. Turning around, the shore looked so distant.
The children, in all their happy glee came splashing, swimming, and screaming towards us. It was fun to be out so far from shore. Everyone but those fishing played Frisbee. We watched and ranked with scores as the kids tried hand stands under water. They tried synchronized swimming. In other words, we played for hours.
We ate lunch and walked the shore looking for shells and interesting rocks. There must have been a storm because there were a lot of seaweed, horseshoe crabs, and other ocean debris. Washburn Island is between Martha's Vineyard and Menahaunt Beach in Falmouth, Cape Cod. In other words, it's pretty much protected from the ravages of hurricanes and fierce storms. But still.
Even though it was September, we all could feel the burn from the sun. The sun was getting to us. The kids were getting cranky. The beer was running low. The tide was coming in and the anchor had to be moved higher up on shore. It was time to think about heading home.
It was then, that Grandpa noticed that his hand felt different. Something was wrong. His wedding ring was gone. His original ring from 51 years ago wasn't on his finger. He was distraught.
Everyone traced his steps, but everyone felt that he must have lost it out in the water. We were playing with the kids and throwing balls and frisbees and even tossing the young ones into the waves. The sand out there was mucky. Yucky, mucky, mud. There was no use looking there. We were at a loss as what to do.
It was a long sad journey back to the cottage. We had looked. We prayed. The Catholics prayed for St. Anthony's intercession. The Jews prayed the Rabbi Meir Baal Hanes prayer. The other religiously-impaired, found themselves praying too. There was nothing else to do.
Everyone had given up. There was no hope, or was there? One day, Uncle Tobey was out quahogging. He was raking up the mucky sand and dropping the quahogs in his peck basket, when he heard a shout. The fellow who was near him had found something. Tobey went over and saw something shiny in Raphael's hand. It was a ring, a wedding ring.
Grandpa correctly described the ring and the inscription inside. Grandpa called the family, friends, and neighbors together and said, "Rejoice with me because I have found what once was lost."
No one likes to lose something that we once had, and certainly not something you've had for over 50 years that has sentimental value. Monetarily it may be a small loss, but it bothers us, and to Grandpa it was a monumental loss. If we give something away, we probably wouldn't miss it at all. We might even feel good that someone else is enjoying it. But when we lose something without knowing how, the loss is irritating, and sometimes the effort we make to recover the loss is out of proportion to the monetary value of the loss item. And if it is of sentimental value, then no one can really understand the depth of the grief Grandpa felt.
See we speak of money and material things as "treasure." But there are other more valuable treasures. One may even consider this fact as one of the proofs that God exists. If the treasures we hold near and dear to us did not exist, then God would be unjust, because most people do not achieve material wealth. There are treasures of the heart and soul that can not be measured or explained. These are the real riches that only those who have true eyes can see.
