You see, BeachHead Ben loves the beach.
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I guess that's obvious with a moniker like "BeachHead." It's just that the beach is often where his head is at.
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BeachHead Ben doesn't live at the beach, but his head does. Fifty years ago when he flew south from the cold north, Ben's head was into finding blue skies and warm temps. Fort Lauderdale was the first place he landed, and when he realized he could actually live near the ocean, it blew his mind. Wide open, like gazing east into the water horizon. With the backdrop of this brilliantly blue unencumbered view palette, Ben dug-in to nest in Broward County.
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At age twenty, independent, working, Ben was drawn to the soft sands and the warm, blue waters of the southeastern Atlantic coast.
Confessions of Cocoa-Butter Ben
BeachHead Ben came to Daytona Beach at the ripe, old age of seventy-ish. He fell in love with the wide, hard-sand beaches, the mild temperatures, and the easy getting around.
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He was somewhat mobility restricted, due to the creeping effects of age and gravity.
But with its wide-open boulevards, vehicle access on the beaches, beautiful parks, and drives, Ben was right at home, sitting at the wheel, enjoying the best his beloved Daytona Beach had to offer.
Ben spent just about every spare minute he could arrange, to go to the beach. Ben's head often found itself at the beach, regardless of where his body was at.
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The azure skies on a crystal clear day, or the slow parade of fluffy white cumulus clouds, the deep turquoise of the warm ocean water with its kaleidoscope of sparkling shades of blues and greens. A rush of small silver fish dart through the clear blue waves. The warm and even boiling hot sand, and the warm Atlantic breezes in the scorching sun. To Ben, being at the beach, truly became the place to be for body and mind when not on the clock.
