By John Keeley
The backstory of the seashells I have began as one of sorrow and sadness.
A few months after my wife was taken by cancer, I started walking the beaches of Long Beach Island. Initially it was to get out of the house, to move, to forget, to remember. Out of shape, out of energy, and without direction, most of the time I walked only a short distance. I watched gulls and the beautiful ocean. Of course, I watched sunrises, surfers and people picking up seashells. Some had bags where they placed their shells. Occasionally, I picked up a shell, thought it was interesting and put it in my pocket — telling myself that I would remember that particular day whenever I looked at it.
That was in Holgate, New Jersey. I thought at that moment that this was my favorite beach — amazing sunrises, quiet atmosphere, easy access to the ocean and plenty of shells. Unaware that it was happening, I was slowly becoming a shell collector — a sheller I think some may say.
After a while I had to carry a bag for the shells I was finding. When one beach did not have a lot of shells, I found myself moving up the coast of LBI. Every town was different; at every beach there was something interesting, surf fisherman, dolphins, school-aged children scooping up sand fleas and selling them to local bait shops; people jogging, people walking, people sleeping, people up early to watch the sunrise and, of course, more shells.
My granddaughter’s dance studio was having a raffle to raise money. I entered and won four different prizes. After I took my prizes, what was left was four glass containers that might have been candle holders and a taller vase, along with some blue stones. One day after looking at all the shells covering my dining room table, I thought I would see how they looked if I put them in the glass containers. Of course, I had to clean and shine the shells. The results are what you see in the photographs: beautiful LBI shells in glass jars. But what I see is a process of healing of sorts — that started with walking the beaches of Long Beach Island. For me, the end of a life brought the beginning of a new one.
