Let me tell you about the Gulf before the oil spill. For decades Panama City Beach, Florida was my sanctuary. To this day I can sit in my room in Los Angeles, CA and remember what the air smelled like; salt, seaweed, and sulfur - and if my mom was around - Ban de Sole coconut oil. Some might think these are unpleasant smells mixed together, but to this day if I smell anything similar my heart rate plummets to a relaxing thud and I’ll smile.
I was two weeks old when I first went to Panama City Beach. My parents took me in the ocean from the very beginning and because of that I was never afraid. Instead my parents’ challenge was to instill a healthy respect, as I would go swimming out to deep water way too young and without any thought of rips or waves.
The heavy salt water strengthened my arms and in later year I would become a championship swimmer in part because of that water. I learned to be still in that water to, head just above the surface, sneaking up on unfortunate brown pelicans after they dove for fish. I slept in the sand all the time. The sand in Panama City Beach is powder fine, underfoot it felt like a cloud, and slept like a down mattress.
During magical fall days the water in PCB would be so calm, clear, and warm that it was like sitting in a bathtub. The color was hypnotic - like looking into the blue eyes of a beautiful baby - you would have to force yourself to look away so you could do simple tasks like brushing your teeth or eating. In the mornings I would wake early and pad my little feet out to my grandparents’ balcony, which overlooked the Gulf. I would hang my legs through the gate a hundred feet up and watch dolphins, stingrays and schools of fish chase each other through the water.
When I made it to the beach I found sand dollars, leathery shark eggs, and crabs on sandbars, tried to rescue jellyfish and sea slugs without touching them and once held my breath as a migration of hundreds of stingrays swept gently over my feet in the surf.
When I went back in October 2009 I got angry. I hadn’t been back in five years. The fish, the water, the beach itself seemed to lack the same life it had before. I griped about the plastic usage and lack of recycling on this blog. I only wanted to save the place I loved.
Now I’ve heard reports that the oil has come ashore and its bad, and I feel helpless. I wanted these memories written down so a record existed of a beautiful place that people may not see again for generations. We were already decimating the animal populations in the Gulf, but now we have perhaps decimated the spirit of the people of the Gulf as well. We’ve soiled something of unmatched beauty. I repeat the word “we” because our fossil fuel consumption did this not just BP.
It’s my fault too, and it keeps me awake at night.
Note: The photos above were taken from my Grandparents' balcony, before the Gulf Oil spill disaster.
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A Stronger Moratorium On New Oil Drilling
