Wednesday, May 12, 2010

"Mixed Up Identity"

Recently, I attended my son's first lacrosse game.  With the helmets and the pads, most of the players on the field look the same, and I realized I did not know his jersy number.  Using my "investigative skills", I narrowed it down, and was convinced that he was #25.  My daughter, who was with me, supported this theory.  I took lots, and lots of photos of #25, but guess what?  After the game, we discovered he was #28.  Once again, no "mom points".

This incident reminded me of a trip to the beach not too long ago.

Last year, I was staying at a house in the Outer Banks with a group of friends.  Two in the group decided to take surfing lessons.  I chose to watch.

"I will bring my camera and take lots of photos," I told them. 

The plan was to meet them on the beach near the surf shop.  So, with my camera strapped over one shoulder, and my bare feet, I headed out on my journey.  I figured I would just walk until I spotted some "beginner-looking" surfers.

 I was enjoying my walk, taking in all of the wonderful sights, sounds, and smells of the ocean - I was lost in my surroundings.  So lost, in fact, that I suddenly realized I had been walking for quite some time.  I stopped and asked someone if they knew my vicinity to the surf shop.  Like a bird flapping it's right wing before taking flight ( "Oh, this isn't good," I thought ), she waived her arm in the opposite direction.  It was at least a thirty minute walk, back where I had come from.

"Wow!  Had I really walked that far?"  I wondered.

I turned around and continued (backtracking) on my journey.  This time, I did not allow myself to get  distracted, and walked until I finally spotted three surfers.  They were pretty far out, and even with my zoom lense, it was hard to identify them as my friends.  Using my "investigative skills" (once again), I observed closely, gathering information, until I was convinced.  The number of people was correct - there were three surfers (my two friends and one instructor), and it appeared that two of the surfers were male, and the one with long hair was a female.  The pieces were coming together.  I decided it was them, and began to shoot pictures.

I stood there for a good twenty minutes doing so, and as I began to feel the heat of the sun beating down on my shoulders, the surfers began to emerge from the ocean.  As they walked closer to the beach, the one with the long hair flipped her long, wet, tresses back in such a way, that a reality hit me like the water from the surf slapping me in the face - "She" was definitely a "dude", and these surfers were not the friends I was looking for.  Cool as can be (and not embarrased, one bit), I casually pivoted around on one foot, and began "strolling" in the opposite direction.

Later, back at the beach house.........................

"I took some great surfing pictures!" I told my surfer friends.  "It's just too bad I didn't know who they were!" 

Needless to say, we had a good laugh.  It turns out, my friends had gone surfing way north of where I was -even farther north than where I walked before turning around.

As for my son and his lacrosse, I attended his next game, and took lots and lots of pictures of #28.

(photo credit - Leslie Morrissette)

1 comment:

  1. I have a picture in my photo album of a man who is not my dad. But he looks so much like my dad, that he might as well be my dad, so I keep the picture.