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OAK ISLAND , NC
I had about one week of enjoying my popularity before everything on the island closed for the winter at sundown on Labor Day Monday. It was as if someone had flipped a light switch. Every place was dark and deserted after sunset. I could walk out on the beach at night and the only lights that could be seen were the lighthouse at Caswell Beach and the stars. The beach was totally void of people and one would rarely see any cars on the roads at all. As I would walk along the neighborhood streets at night, except for the rare illumination of the house of a permanent resident, the night was absent of light and the atmosphere was thick with solitude. The most noticeable sound of all was the silence, framed against a background of the distant, but persistent, subtle sounds of breaking surf.
Through the fall and early winter, my Grandmother and I took time to visit all of the surrounding attractions of the area. We visited such places as, Brunswick Towne, with both Civil and Revolutionary War significance, Orton Plantation, Fort Caswell, Fort Fisher, and even Maco, where the ghost of Joe Baldwin is said to roam the railroad tracks at night. We also became very well acquainted with Wilmington, and the surrounding towns of Wrightsville Beach, Kure Beach, and Carolina Beach, all of which are in New Hanover County.
With the onset of cold weather and cold water, my surfing did not end. We had purchased a very good wetsuit that really protected the body from the cold water. My feet, hands and face, however, got rather numb from the cold when I came out of the water. It�s funny how forty-six degree ocean water feels like a warm bath when the air temperature is twenty-two degrees.
The winter nights were rather long. After beautiful pink, red, and purple winter sunsets, darkness came early and stayed late.
There was no such thing as cable television back then, so we were at the mercy of two Wilmington television stations to supply all of our viewing pleasure.
To fill in the hours when the TV stations fell short of their goal, we bought a board game called �Topper�. It was a spin the dial game that was sort of a color-coded Bingo. It was really a lot of fun and we played that stupid game at night for hours.
During the cold, dark winter nights the isolation was accented by the fact that there were no streetlights, nor were there any lights on at any house but ours for about four blocks in any direction. But it was a pleasant and cozy isolation there at night in the warmth of home, listening to the distant sound of the surf, the winter wind blowing through the Pines and Live Oaks outside, and the distinct, but seldom occurring sound of sleet on the roof, or seeing the faint glistening of freezing rain on the Spanish Moss in the trees.
In the mornings, the signs of life began to creep back onto the island as the residents began their daily routines of work, shopping, and school, much the same as in other towns and communities, except that the number of people was much smaller. In fact, only one school bus picked up all of the kids on all twelve miles of Oak Island for the nine-mile ride to Southport.
There was one school in Southport. All of the classes for the younger students were on the lower floor and the high school classes were on the upper floor. It was quite a thrill and a wonderful feeling for a student to at last ascend the stairs to classes on the upper floor. The old school was destroyed by fire in 1969, putting an end to the era of the Southport �Dolphins�, but never the �Dolphins� attitudes or spirit. These will go on!
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