"Hey, have you thought about a summer job?", my dad asks.
I look at him dumbfounded, because at the moment i am wrapped up in two long sleeve shirts, a sweatshirt, and a coat on a cold February day, and shake my head.
"Well you should probably start now before any of the college kids come back?"
"Thats not a bad idea" I said, even though I could not even start to think about the days when it is ninety degrees outside.
I wake up, around ten o'clock to my dad yelling to my brother and I to get out of bed. As a new member of the over 21 club my brother is clearly hung over and probably running on very few hours of sleep, I on the other hand am pretty well rested. Both of us know what lies a head, " just a little bit everyday to keep the house looking good". This little bit will then turn into a trip to the hardware store and then to another job that my dad has found.
"What should I do this summer?" I think to myself. Well i want something that will make money, but i really do not have to do that much work. Maybe I will try to work at my former grade school. Or maybe I will try to work at Ravinia, I heard they hire a bunch of high school kids. If all that fails i could even try caddying.
After about three hours in the hot New Jersey sun we are finally done with our tidying up of the house. Now what everyone has been waiting for.
The Beach.
"I like golf", I say to myself as I realize that caddying is my last option for a summer job. The money signs start going through my head, maybe after all caddying wont be such a bad idea.
The Jersey Shore Beach.
A place where the stereotypical New Jersey and New York family flocks too on summer weekends. For many it is an escape from their normal life but for me, at the time, it was like walking through a fire pit. I like to body surf, but if there are no waves then the beach is pointless. People love to just sit there and read and have the water in the background, but it was more of just a place to get a bad sun burn for me.
"I am sorry there are no more spots available for caddies, and there are classes that you had to take", the head caddie said, with an unwelcoming look on his face.
"But what if we play golf for New Trier", my friend asked, even though neither of us had shot under a hundred in our entire life.
"So you know your way around a course?" the head caddie sounded persuaded.
"Of course, we have been playing since we were kids", another outstanding lie.
Three hours later we are just leaving the beach.
7:00 a.m arrive at caddie shack and wait to get out.
And wait.
And wait.
Everyone has showered and dinner has just been put out. A good dinner, good conversation, but now what?
Nothing.
There is nothing to do on this island but read or watch T.V.
"Your ball is over here Ms. McCarthy", I said. After about five minutes of walking through plants up to my knees to find it.
"Well how far is it to the bunker?" the seventy year old woman asks.
" I am actually not sure but I do not think that bunker is in your range from here", I said with a little sarcasm because the bunker was probably out of distance for Tiger Woods.
" Well most caddies should know that", she said with a annoyed tone.
It was at this moment that I realized I would give anything in the world to be at the beach.
To just take this woman's golf bag off my shoulders.
Throw the woman's ball in the water, thats probably where it was going anyway, and go to the beach. I had never fully appreciated the beauty of a beach house. Everything I had always hate about it, I now realize is a blessing.
