Beach Day

Iconic summer daydream. The picture doesn't match the live video, especially if it's July or August on the Gulf Coast. Unless it's after 5 p.m., which I recommend. The breeze will have picked up, the sun is in a better mood, and generally post-nap, people are more apt to smile.

I've been visiting the Gulf Coast since before my brain was preserving memories in places I can pull from. Every summer. My parents worked a lot, still do. But the summer ritual—packing up the farm truck, avoiding Louisiana state police and their ridiculous speed limits, and making our way to the not-so-blue waters of Alabama—has been routine.

In '04, Dauphin Island became our second home. It's a small barrier island outside the port city of Mobile. A local spot. The slow speed is enforced at 35 mph. Peaceful.

You have to bring fun here. Growing up, my dad would take me and my friends for a week each summer. We learned to play poker and the hard lesson that 4 of a kind beats a full house. We'd throw frisbee for hours on the dock—if it hit you and went in the water, you were swimming with sharks.

I caught my first shark here, a white tip, with skin like sandpaper. And I still remember my sister Laura catching a 31-inch redfish, which we grilled up the same night.

This is a place full of memories. And now I get to share it with my son.

I don't know if he'll have the same experiences or if this trip will be routine. The thing about a beach house is that it's similar to a boat—it's better if your friend owns it, and you get to use it now and then. There's always something to repair. Oh, and hurricanes have this habit of hitting barrier islands pretty hard.

But when everything comes together, it's perfect. Way better than the hotel pool.