Goin’ to The Ocean

“Charl, Charl! Wake up!” I whispered loudly into the blackness. “We’re goin’ to see the ocean today!” My sister rolled over in the darkened room. “It’s too early, Bet, go back to sleep, ” she grumbled. True, it was only 4 a.m., but I could not contain my excitement. I wanted to see that ocean.

I was 9 years old that year, and my sister Charl was 11. We had just moved to Georgia for the summer.

Daddy was in the roadbuilding business, principally supplying crushed stone for what would become Interstate 75, running from Canada to South Florida. In his business he worked along