No Trespassing

By Georgia Osten
We were recently invited over to our neighbor’s house for dinner, to meet our new neighbors. We just lost some long-time residents who sold their home to long-time friends of theirs. As it goes, we didn’t know them at all, they’re Beaumont folks who know everyone already and everyone knows them already. That’s okay, easy to like people, and we all enjoyed getting to know each other.

Here’s My Buddy, we’re each other’s complaint department, we like to piss and moan to each other about tourists and people who drive too fast down our roads, and too many mobile homes in our sub-division, and stuff like that. He lives on the street behind me. I mentioned that summer is half over and “it really hasn’t been that bad this summer, with the exception of Jeep weekend.” Then, being superstitious, I knocked on one of the wood pilings (knock on wood).

So, the other day, I had just come home from work and before going upstairs, I decided to set the water sprinkler in one of my front gardens. As I’m positioning the sprinkler in the garden, out of the blue, from the street behind me comes a golf cart barreling through the back of my property, along my side yard and out my driveway to get to my street! What the **%#&^ !!! I’m yelling at the top of my lungs. He punches it and away he goes toward The Big Store.

My stars and garters!

Just adjacent to us is a particular sub-division with no beach access, not even a golf cart crossing, so these residents usually cut across the parking lot of the church to get to our street which IS beach access. Across the street from me, I’ve been watching this vacant lot for maybe 3 summers now. Ever since they mowed it down, it’s become another crossing point. Some of the residents on that little dead end street aren’t too happy with all the traffic that generates. One of the neighbors actually posted “No Trespassing – Private Property” signs. Do you think that stopped them? No indeed!

No Trespassing means “don’t cross here.” And it DOES APPLY TO ALL!


GO’s Sand Bucket is only one beach bum’s journal of life at the beach, probably something each of you can relate to. Please feel free to email me with your thoughts, visions and/or feelings of just exactly what the beach means to you. Email:


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