All beach bums were homeless but we'd awaken to squawking seagulls fighting over dropped sardines in midair. Cool, damp, sand,
wet seaweed, and the beautiful beach smells, beach fires, and sometimes fresh coffee fragrances wafting from the boardwalk.
Strolling along the high tide mark, you'd watch sandcrabs scurrying to bury themselves in wet sand. Just offshore bait fish would stir a boil, pelicans soaring ahead of a gliding swell. Sometimes the bighorn would incessantly cry out. Sure, you didn't want to be homeless but you wouldn't want it any other way.