Lost and Found

as published at The Orange County Register on July 20, 2013:

Anyone out there named Jessica missing a Dora the Explorer beach towel? I’ve got

one in my trunk, but I’m not quite sure who “Jessica C.” is. I also have frayed towels 

promoting NBC, Polo Ralph Lauren, and a Japanime cartoon if anyone’s looking.

In the meantime, we’ll be using them because the six plush Costco beach blankets 

I bought two years ago have altogether disappeared. (Yet miraculously, all of the 

mangy ones I picked up in a sale bin last summer and that are only good for drying

my big toe are still with us.)

When I dump out our bag of sand toys, I see I’ve picked up two svelte metal sand 

shovels that I know I never bought. But my younger two are happily using them to

dig a hole to China every time we take the big kids to Junior Guards. Unfortunately,

the shovels aren’t labeled so we can’t identify their rightful owners, but we do have 

broken buckets belonging to “Jax,” “Christian,” and anonymous that we’d be happy

to return -- if we knew who Jax, Christian, and anonymous were. 

I don’t feel guilty when my kids accidentally haul off others’ goods at the beach, 

because Poseidon knows we’ve left behind enough of our own. My son Blake

donates one Rainbow sandal to every beach we go to, like they’re souvenirs. As I

have yet to see any other seven-year-olds walking around town with only one flip

flop, I have to presume that for sand crabs, rubber is a food group.

Every summer, I vow to do better, to be a better beach mom. I visualize that I will

stash my slick floral patterned Ju-Ju-Be beach bag with its cooler pocket and sand

drain with name brand sunscreen -- even Zinka -- alongside iced Vitamin Waters.

But realistically, by July, I’m trekking to T-street with a plastic Albertson’s bag 

stuffed with a half-eaten bag of stale Doritos and a handful of warm Capri Suns. At 

least I won’t mind if those things get left behind.

Some days I wonder if yet another harmful byproduct of UV rays is forgetfulness, 

because without fail, every time we go to the beach, our favorite things are 

forgotten. Part of me wants to ban ourselves from the beach permanently until they 

invent a metal detector that can also detect my favorite pair of Tom’s and fourteen 

lost pairs of sunglasses. 

But really, I know there is no better way for my family to bond with our community 

than to go to the beach alongside you. And bring home half of your stuff with us.