Nancy’s Jekyll Island Memories
Dear editors,
My love affair with Jekyll Island began in the hazy summer of 1960, when my brave mother drove four energetic children from Buffalo, New York to visit our grandparents who had recently retired to this exotic paradise. We had never even seen the ocean and were eager to experience every inch of the island. We were greeted by wild turkey and enchanted by the oaks draped with hanging moss. My grandmother drove us around in an old station wagon, past chain gangs clearing palmetto with huge scythes. We tiptoed through the dunes at night with flashlights, watching sea turtles hatch and scurry to the sea. We learned the names of hundreds of creatures and became hawk-eyed beachcombers, collecting irridescent pen shells and yellow coral branches and moon snails as big as my fist and skate purses and chains of coins that spilled tiny knobbed whelks at every shake. Grandmother knew the names and stories of every creature whose abandoned shells filled our pails. At low tide we squished through the muddy silt, and at high tide we rode the waves on inflatable rafts until we were dragged home for dinner. An alligator patrolled the drainage ditch along Beachview Drive, and wildlife were so plentiful that they came every night to Grandmother’s patio to feed - we watched, motionless, through the sliding glass doors as deer, raccoons, and possum gathered. My grandfather took us crabbing off the old lift bridge, and we bought shrimp right off the boats at the small dock in the old village. It was a magical adventure.
Over the years, my family has spent nearly every Easter vacation on this incredible island. The four children became six, who grew and married and returned with their own children and grandchildren. This past year, we celebrated with four generations (filling three cottages, a campsite, and a hotel suite) who love this island as much as my grandparents, Carl and Cecily Masters, did. I can’t imagine a more perfect legacy.
Sincerely,
Nancy
