We were ready for our first planned family adventure. It was a beautiful, sunny, July day in New England. The temperatures certainly weren’t as warm as Florida, although our neighbors promised that the heat and humidity would come. It was only 75˚F out, and with an ocean breeze, we figured that Plymouth would feel cooler.

With light jackets tucked in the back of the station wagon, camera batteries charged and the navigation system programmed, it was time to hit the road. Turning down a couple of small roads, we made our way to Main Street. Every time we passed the town gazebo and the old school, I flashed back to the day that my adventure with Greedy Bear began. Mom sensed my thoughts and broke in with the expression “A penny for your thoughts, Jennifer.”

Brought back to the present, I responded, “I was just thinking back to the day when I met Greedy Bear. I hope today’s adventure doesn’t end the same way.”

Dad said, “Jen, we’re leaving this so-called Bridgewater Triangle, so just relax and enjoy! What can possibly go wrong?”

I wished my Dad hadn’t ended with that question. Jason must have felt the same way because he immediately tried to find a positive note and stated, “Jen, look on the bright side. Greedy Bear found you right in your own home. How dangerous can it be to be in Plymouth?”

He wasn’t helping any. “Gee, Jason, thanks for reminding me that I’m not even safe in my own home.”

I knew my parents were still a little worried about my mental well-being, so I quickly changed the subject and started asking about Plymouth. Dad had turned north on Main Street, and we were now approaching the on-ramp to Rt. 24 North. After traveling about 7 miles, we took exit 13A onto Rt.44 East and followed that route through a roundabout, and finally, we were on Rt. 3 South.

The ride had been peaceful, and we enjoyed one other’s company. We played name the singer with the songs that played on the radio. Mom and I teamed against Jason and Dad. The goal was to correctly name the singer first. Much to Dad’s and Jason’s chagrin, Mom and I rocked, beating them 11 to 3.

Before we knew it, we were on Plimoth Plantation Highway. At the end of exit 4, we went left on River Street, then left on Clifford Street, and once we got on Warren Street, we found the entrance to Long Beach. At long last, I was near a beach, and the scent of the ocean sent a wave of thrills through me.

I jumped out of the car and yelled, “Last one in is a rotten egg!” My shoes and socks were already off, and my pant legs were rolled up to my knees. My first impression of the sand was “ouch!” It was a bit rocky and strewn with pieces of shells, but that didn’t stop me. As the sand became smoother, my heart raced faster. The water was just inches from me. I ran right into the ocean as a wave came in and splashed the water right up to my knees. I let out a scream that could have awakened the dead.

My family, who was cautiously walking through the rocky sand, stopped dead in their tracks. Fear was etched on their faces as they heard me scream. Dad then, broke into a run and quickly came to my side in the water. He had a delayed reaction and then let out a scream of his own. The water was miserably bone-numbing, probably about 60˚F. We looked at one other and began to laugh. Mom and Jason had just entered the water as well and now knew why we screamed.

The native New Englanders must have thought we were crazy. Used to the cooler water temperatures, even their little ones were in the water and having a great time. This was going to take getting used to. It wasn’t my Florida beach. Mom and Jason got out as fast as they had come in. Dad and I frolicked a little in the surf and then headed in. As we waded back, I heard a female voice say “Jennifer.” Assuming it was my Mom, I said, “What do you want, Mom?”

Mom had been talking with Jason. She turned and said, “What’s that?”

I asked, “Didn’t you just call me?” I saw the terror in Jason’s eyes as he looked at me and then at Mom.

Mom responded, “No, Jennifer, I didn’t call you.”

Just then, we heard a mother say, “Come on, Jennie, it’s time to get out of the water.”

With a sigh of relief, Dad said, “There’s the Jennifer that was called.”

We walked a decent length of Long Beach and then, getting hungry, we turned back toward our vehicle. I stopped to take a picture of a seagull as my family continued toward the car. Just then, the little girl named Jennie walked by with her mom. She smiled at me and I said, “So, your name is Jennifer, just like mine.”

Her mom responded, “No, it’s just Jennie.”

That answer caught me off guard. I knew that I had clearly heard the name “Jennifer” spoken. Was something going on or was there someone else on the beach that had my name? I decided to keep this information to myself as I rejoined my family. There was a feeling inside me, however, that made every hair on my arms stand up. Goose bumps in July were not a good sign!