We had friends whose father worked for the county library which for some strange reason owned a house on the Oregon coast. Pictured here are the four of us and the two of them standing on the front porch with the Pacific Ocean in the background. The home was in Neahkhanie, a small, virtually undeveloped(in the 1950’s) beach town. But it had one important claim to fame–a rumored buried pirate treasure. In the center of town there was a welcome sign with a reproduction of the writing seen on the rock on the right.
Needless to say, the six of us were certain that we would be able to decipher the code and find the buried treasure. Armed with no more than a shovel and diehard optimism, we argued about where to dig and how deep to dig. But our enthusiasm quickly died and we simply dug and played in the surf. Only up to our knees to be obedient to our mothers. We were unsupervised but trusted to “never turn your back on the ocean” and to “never climb on logs that are on the edge of the surf.”
We would return after a morning of treasure hunting, wading and running to devour sandwiches. We feasted on tuna salad and our friends’ mother’s specialty, chopped olive with mayonnaise. Never had any food tasted so wonderful. Then, duly fortified, we took off for an afternoon at the beach.