My wife, Shirley, and I have gone on vacations to a quiet beach in southwestern Florida for most of our married life. If that beach could talk, it would tell of teenage newlyweds who sunned and wrote "I love you" on its sands. It would tell of a little girl with eyes the color of the sea gathering seashells and of three wild boys leaping and diving into the surf. It would tell of joyous visits over the years from friends, parents, grandparents, new brides and grooms -- and now grandchildren. The beach would tell glorious tales of warmth and gratitude.
But I realized one day
