The beaches of the Gulf Coast are surprisingly among the most beautiful in the world, and my toes first touched their sugar sands when I was six months old. My mother dipped me in and out of the gentle waves, and judging from the photographs, it was gleeful for both of us. Photo Jodi Cobb Summers meant family trips to Gulf Shores, Alabama, and the memories and the photographs intertwine: my grandfather bobbing peacefully on his air mattress on the calm surf, pith helmet on his bald head, smoking a pipe. My mother fishing from the pier at night, sometimes still there as the sun came up. I would go out to watch her—it was the only reason I was allowed to stay out…