I've been a lifeguard for... well, far longer than I should have been, to tell the truth. Started this job as a summer thing, back when I was in high school. Since, it's seen me through a coupla years of college, a whole buncha girlfriends, coupla wives, eight apartments, and one really fine car. All that's gone now, I guess. Not that I miss it, let me tell you. Sometimes I see folks coming out here, loaded down with enough crap to set up housekeeping. I want to yell at them, You're at the beach! You dont need that portable DVD player! You got an entire ocean at your disposal! But it wouldnt do any good, right? Still, ya gotta wonder about folks who drive two hours to get to the beach just so they can watch Finding Nemo. I mean, the real thing is just sitting out there waiting for them, right? Or the girls who come out here and spend the whole day reading. Reading. Now I dont mind reading myself, but let's get our priorities straight, huh? You're on a beach in some overpriced micro bikini, a cute guy walks by and gives you a wink, and you miss it because you're reading about some cute guy giving some chick a wink and you're thinking, Gosh, I wish that could happen to me... Okay, so what's wrong with this picture, right? Know who's got it right? The kids. Watch them: the minute the car door opens, they head for the water. They know why they're here all right; they know what's what. Mom and Dad and Aunt Ethel can lug the umbrella and the towels and the CD player and the icebox and the sunglasses and the tanning oil and the three changes of clothing and God only knows what else down to the beach -- but all the kids want is that ocean. And they look up at me and smile and wave and I wave back and we laugh. Sometimes we'll look at a shell they've found down in the tidewaters before Mommy yells, "Put that nasty thing down! Here, eat your burger before the ants get to it!" And you want to say to them, Go for it, kid, because before too much longer, that ocean aint gonna mean a hill of beans compared to the head honcho position and the trophy wife and the trophy girlfriend and the three mortgages and the SUV. The only water you're gonna give a damn about will come out of a bottle and the only waves you're gonna feel are exhaustion. But hey... My folks keep asking me, When're you gonna get a real job? Guess they dont understand that I'm not just protecting lives out here. I'm protecting Life itself. One small line of defence against a stuff that seduces you with "glowing skin at any age." "Put yourself in good hands, because I'm lovin' it." "Stay regular." All that zoom zoom stuff that folks seem to think is so important. Well, ask them again in about forty years, I guess. Maybe then they'll figure out that the ocean doesnt give a damn about your trophy wife or how cool your car is or how many books you've read or how many burgers you've stuffed into yourself. It just sits out there, patient, waiting, knowing that eventually you'll figure it out and hoping you still have enough time left to enjoy it. Tide's coming in.