We’re at the beach today. We rented a house in Waldport. The back fronts the ocean but has several hundred feet of sand dunes between us and the waterline.

I was sitting on the back patio, looking over the dunes, watching the distance waves when three young women trudged up the beach over our dunes. My inherent geezer kicked in. “You kids get off our dunes,” I shouted, shaking a fist.

No, not really. I just raised my glass of wine in their general direction.