Sea Gull Beach by Arlene Forbes

Many promises were made to take us to the beach, and many of those promises were kept. The moment I stepped into the backseat of the brown ’55 Pontiac, my toes were already sinking into the brown crystals of the shore.

One more turn on the shiny black asphalt, two more bumps before the crackling sound of gravel and the big sign ahead: “Sea Gull Beach” – “coloreds only.” I remember the first time I asked pop, “What does that sign mean?” and he answered very matter-of-fact, “It means we’re special.”

Pop would park the car, and we would all scatter like mice from a corner of darkness when the light switch goes on. For some of us the journey towards the beach area would be like walking through a maze randomly designed from gull droppings. But I was not bothered by the white and gray matter, for I am already immersed in the water.

The gaming area is all abuzz with the sounds of pinball machines and one arm bandits. My siblings’ taste for entertainment ran the gamut, but my twin sister Irene and I decided earlier that we weren’t going to become willing participants in the hold up.

Later in the evening you could hear the soulful sounds of Otis Redding drifting through the salty sea air. “These arms of mine, they are yearning.” At the time I didn’t know what “yearning” meant, but I sure got a sense of what it felt like by the time the song was over.

Irene and I went over to the band shell. Years later, we would discover this piece of construction was called an amphitheater. Everything sounded simpler back then. The much talked about Siamese twins would be appearing, and we wanted a front row seat.

The twins were laterally conjoined at the head. We both had pondered the deep questions: How do two people joined at the head live? Wouldn’t they get on each others nerves? I mean twins are close and all, but never being separated! How does this work?

It wasn’t long before the conjoined twins appeared on stage that the mystery questions were answered. They smiled, ate, drank, talked, heck!, they breathed. We discovered they were connected by something far greater than by their heads. After that encounter with the twins, Irene and I vowed to become even closer. We were moved by their gentle grace and strength. I never looked at people who were physically different than me in the same way again.

Leaving the beach that day, I took one more glance at the sign and thought to myself: “Yes, we are all quite special.”

This true story was written by Arlene Forbes of Eden Prairie during the Thursday Night Writer's retreat in February 2006 at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum.