You Are Now Entering The Early Morning Community

I have been bicycle-riding in the mornings for the past 3 months, usually between 6:00-7:00 AM during the week and 8:00-9:00 AM on Saturdays. I preface my latest entry with this information to solidify my humble (but accurate) opinion that there is a unique Early Morning Community (EMC) that remains hidden from the social radar that tracks everything from a celebrity's facial hair count to the inner workings of an athelete's nostril cavities. Part of the reason for this, I'm sure, is that the people who report on such banal topics are just getting to sleep about the time the denizens of the dawn rise from their slumber...It seems to me there are only 3 categories that these early birds fall into: 1) those who like to exercise to start the day for a healthier lifestyle; 2) those who are too stressed or depressed to sleep and find themselves wandering; 3) those who have dogs and do not wish to tempt fate by sleeping past the animals' toilet time. I would say, of all the citizens of the EMC, the majority fall into the first category (except on Saturdays, around 8:15, when over 90% of the EMC are from the third category!)...This morning, for example, I saw the usual handful of familiar faces, all designated by nicknames, given to them by myself, not so much to mock but to identify them instead of seeing nameless faces. This morning alone I passed all the usual suspects: Broken Wing; Hong Kong Phooey; Grandpa Walkman; Blondie; the Druid; the Pigeon Sisters. All the names reflect the outstanding feature of the individual. Broken Wing is a woman who shuffle-jogs with her right arm dangling; Grandpa Walkman is an elderly gent with a cassette player and headphones; Blondie is a young, athletic roller-blader with long blonde curls and a snow-white smile; the Druid is a petite woman on a huge bike that wears a sweatshirt with a hood so large she wears it over her helmet and I still can't see her face; the Pigeon Sisters are Irish women who walk quickly and talk twice as fast....But the one that really reinforces my theory is the Dog-Walker, a middle-aged man that I pass consistently in the same spot as he walks his dog. At first, it was a cursory wave of my hand; a few days later, it was a "how ya doin'?"; a few weeks later, it was a full sentence: "Looks like I'm running late this morning," I'd say. "No, I'm early," is the reply. Another time, he said, "I missed you yesterday." I replied, "It's every other day!" And on it goes. At one point, I thought to stop and ask his name, but I felt it would violate the unwritten law that basically states that all relationships in the EMC are cursory ones. Don't break the consistency. If you can fit a full sentence in as you pass each other, that's fine. Just do not alter your routine for the sake of social interaction. I could be wrong. Or it could be so early that my brain is not functioning right.

Shore Life And Other Summertime Ramblings

I love the seashore. Even this blog has a reference to the beach and it is no accident. Given a choice of where I would live with money being no object, a tropical island beach always comes to mind. Although this stems from my experience on Andros Island in the Bahamas back in 1988, it is only recently - like, in the last 4 or 5 years, as far as I can pinpoint - that warm, beach climate has become my environment of choice. When I was young, and all the way up to about 5 years ago, if you had asked me what my favorite seasons were, I would have said, in this order: winter, fall, summer, spring. There has always been something about a cold, grey winter day that seemed almost magical to me, snow-covered or not. It seemed to me, what good is weather if it is not a challenge? Clearing a driveway after a heavy snow in chilling temperatures and howling winds is about as close as we get to "roughing it" these days. And I still enjoy playing in a fresh blanket of frosty whiteness. What better than to take a walk by the bay in the dead of winter? There is someting in that weather that begs - no, forces introspection. That being said, if you asked me to list my favorite seasons today, it would be: summer, fall, winter, spring. So, why the about-face? I can narrow the turning point down to Martin Luther King Day in January, 2004. I was at work that day (I still have never had MLK Day off, officially) and it was lunch time. It was a typical New York City kind of winter day: windy and bone-chilling. But I insisted on taking a 15-minute walk and convinced my co-worker, Bob, to accompany me. I departed, sans hat or gloves. Big mistake. Upon my return, my head was so frozen that it was numb and I was dizzy for a good 20 minutes after I sat at my desk. It was at that moment that I realized, "winter sucks!" I had a good friend, Tom, who was a beach bum, right down to his beach house down the Jersey shore. I found myself gravitating toward him in phone conversations, living vicariously through his sand-and-sea lifestyle. I was going to be a beach bum, at least in spirit, I decided. By the time April rolled around, I found myself making half-hour pilgrimages to the Orchard Beach boardwalk in the Bronx during my lunch hours, practically dragging summer into being. I bought new sunglasses. I found my Jamaican Bay tropical-print shirts. I planned family outings to Robert Moses State Park and Jones Beach. I bought a new pair of leather sandals. I re-decorated my bathroom in a beach-themed motif, right down to the carved wood sea captains and surfboard toothbrush holder. I bought tropical parrot lights and hung them around my drawing table. I was in it for the long haul, Beach Boys music and all! Today, I try to stretch the summer from the beginning of April to the end of October. It usualyy works well for me. After all, temperatures were hovering around 75 degrees as near as two days ago. Besides, the summer lifestyle is a state of mind, anyway. I guess that I will have to finally usher in the autumn over the next couple of weeks. But that doesn't mean I'm not looking ahead to the summer of 2007. I just bought a leather surfer's necklace off eBay from someone named "sunny beach". Sounds like my kind of beach bum!

So This Is The 21st Century?

Well, the Candyman has reached the next stop on his journey into the 21st Century: My Blog. After beginning the trip at the turn of the century (6 years ago) by receiving a CD player, I then began to replace the favorites of my 200 or so albums (remember vinyl discs?) with CDs. Now that I am about 50% there, I see it's time to consider an ipod. It's all too fast. After all, the Candyman just last year broke down and got a cell phone! Can cable TV be far behind? I must thank my good friend, Kevin K., whose "pajama-fishing" blogspot inspired me to begin Candy Cane Beach. Always one for writing, I thought it a breakthrough when I started to use Microsoft Word (late 90s, for me) and realized I didn't need to use Wite-Out. (By the way, why don't they use the "h" in that word?) Now that I have a blog (speaking of words...) I suppose this is just the next step. I am proud to be part of the Blogosphere! Take me to your blog leader! I have no idea what to expect from Candy Cane Beach. I assume it will be random musings, but not so random that it bores the tears out of you! After all, you could care less about the ingrown toenail I may have removed or the fact that I can't stop the hair growing out of my ears (although they sometimes affect the mood I'm in on any given day). All in all, I hope this blog is as interesting to read as it is to write. The Candyman feels so literary. Do you?