THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, April 8, 1996 TAG: 9604060050
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E5 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Larry Maddry
LENGTH: Medium: 80 lines
HUMORIST GEORGE ADE once noted that spring had sat so long in the lap of winter that people were beginning to talk.
It's that way around Chick's Beach and Chesapeake Beach (which are the same in some places and different in others, depending on who you talk to).
Just when everyone breaks out their walking shorts and flip-flops a northeaster blows in, churns up the Bay, blankets the sky with clouds and sends folks back to the cedar chests to look for a sweater.
But there are signs of spring for sure. Last week the thermometer still hovered in the 60s long after dark, and the moon illuminated a row of flowering pear trees beside our condominiums.
It was a lovely sight. Thousands of white blossoms, shimmering in the moonlight. The trees resembled bridesmaids lined up for a night wedding. Then a gentle breeze blew through the limbs, releasing a snow shower of blossoms from their limbs onto the moon-silvered grass beyond.
Spring has not really arrived at Pleasure House Lake until the new ducklings appear. I don't believe any of the duck eggs have hatched yet. But it won't be long now before the tiny peeps can be heard as a dozen of the tiny ducklings follow their mother, falling down now and then like Keystone Kops, into the lake water.
We are certainly a long way from summer - which is marked in the neighborhood of Chick's Beach by the first couple found to have spent the night on the beach beneath the bridge-tunnel.
(Mabel the cocker Spaniel and I know summer has arrived when we find an adventurous couple wrapped in a cocooning Army blanket beneath the span on our morning beach walk. Oddly enough, from what we witness, the overnight beach experience rarely proves to be unifying. I have noticed that they walk from the beach with sullen expressions, shaking sand from their hair, rarely speaking to each other.)
There are, however, touches of spring everywhere. Blossoming fruit trees and golden sprays of forsythia (named for the English botanist William Forsyth) and buttercups scattered like gold coins at the edge of the lake.
Last Thursday night I wore shirt sleeves as the dog and I walked along the Bay at sunset.
The weather was summerlike. Thin clouds spread across the purpling sky. The air was light and warm. There were no breakers; a gentle curl of water flopped to shore.
Beyond the beach the undulating water glistened with golden bands of light, reflections of the glowing pole lights on the bridge-tunnel
Next morning, it was cold enough for a thick coat. The sky overhead was as gray as a prison dish rag, and angry, bearded waves crashed onto shore. Spring had vanished.
But it will come again. Soon a spider will establish a webby residence on my patio near the tub I use for a water garden. And as the warm days become more regular, people will spend more time outdoors. Then the arguments over who and what Chick's Beach is will be heard throughout the neighborhood.
The debate began years ago when a man named Chic operated a hot dog stand in the vicinity of Fentress Avenue for the sunbathers and swimmers at Chesapeake Beach. It was a popular spot. People began to say ``Let's go down to Chic's Beach,'' although the neighborhood was and is Chesapeake Beach.
Semantics have become a sore point for many longtime residents who like the official name ``Chesapeake Beach'' and want everyone to call it that. They bristle at bumper stickers reading ``I Live at Chick's Beach.'' And absolutely freak when someone names an eatery Chick's Beach Restaurant or applies the name to a surf shop or store.
To my knowledge, no community in Hampton Roads generates such fierce arguments over its place name. I don't remember a place name argument so vicious in my lifetime. The only one that came close was the debate Norfolkians had over whether or not Wards Corner was truly ``The Times Square of the South,'' as it once billed itself.
Some believe Chick's Beach is only the place where Chic sold the hot dogs. Others believe the nickname ``Chick's Beach'' can only be applied to the general vicinity where Chic operated - not far from the bridge-tunnel.
Still others - and I happen to be one of them - believe in a broader view of Chick's Beach that encompasses all of Bay Lake Pines, Fort Story and the Atlantic Ocean beyond, including Bermuda. by CNB