I took a deep breath and exhaled, my shoulders dropping noticeably as the stress evaporated into the Atlantic Ocean air. Just nine hours earlier I’d been standing on a beach 3,000 miles away in Santa Monica, overwhelmed by its sights and sounds. But now, business trip concluded and back at our beach house in Rhode Island, I delighted in the calm of this coastal New England scene. No body builders, no street performers. No boardwalks, no Ferris wheels. No shops selling tiny souvenir license plates. Just the two things my family and I treasured most: The salt and the sand.