It's early Tuesday morning as I write this and I find myself sitting under a tent in Galveston, Texas. I'm working as a cameraman for NBC News today and we're covering the Robert Durst trial. I just finished a live-shot for NBC's Today Show with correspondent Jim Cummins.

My wife Phyllis and I just returned from four days in the French West Indies. We were on an eight square-mile island called St. Barth's. Go to San Marten and take a ten-minute hop over the water to St. Barth's. It's a French island. Beautiful beaches.

It's something we would have probably never have done on our own, but my oldest son Chris was getting married on the beach there. We arrived late last Thursday. I won't go into the story of travel hell. I think everyone who travels overseas has stories like that and I get tired of hearing them, so I won't tell mine.

I will tell you, however, that the landing on St. Barth's is known around the world. The runway is between a low mountain and the beach. The prevailing wind is from the water so the aircraft make most of their approaches from the mountain end. That means dropping full flaps and a steep descent. The plane plants it on the approach end of the runway. To run over the other end of the runway means to go into the water.

It's dark when we return from dinner and we finally get to check out our bungalow. We can see the beach a short distance away and walk to it. I lay back in a beach chair and Phyllis lays her back against me and we watch the surf and listen to the crashing of the waves. We're alone on this beautiful beach and the lighting is away from us and low. I suggest she remove her top and enjoy the moment. She resists the idea at first. It's something she's never done before. I assure her that the beaches here are topless anyway, and besides, we're alone. She shyly removes her top and remarks about how wonderful it feels. On that same beach the next morning, Phyllis is at first surprised to see that there's other women walking around without tops. It's the way of life here. The men aren't gawking.

The next day found us on a beautiful small beach on another part of the island. Again, most of the women around us were topless. Phyllis lay topless on a beach towel for a while but put her top on to walk to the surf.

We walked into the surf a short distance and I turned to talk to Phyllis. As I was speaking, a large wave knocked the CRAP out of me and I went sprawling! It turned out that the shelf under the water dropped off dramatically and this caused the waves to be very large until their dying moment. It became a game to stand there and be slapped silly by the waves, many of which knocked Phyllis out of her top. So, she said "to hell with it" and threw her top away. We spent the better part of an hour frolicking in the waves, being knocked around again and again. We laughed and played like we had never done in our 12-year relationships. To use Phyllis' favorite word, the experience was cathartic. I hope I'm spelling that right. Phyllis experienced a new sense of freedom on this trip. The easiness of the island life, the casual dress and the lack of caring if parts of the body were seen through the clothes or seen bare out in the sunshine was truly a new experience for her and for me.

The wedding on the beach was beautiful. Chris and Krisinda were married at sunset, only the sun wasn't shining through the rain clouds. We had to wait for the rain to stop but it was beautiful in spite of the weather. The return trip was a bit of a hassle, but we returned to Dallas late Sunday night and Monday morning I was on my way here to Galveston.

Today is Veterans Day. I served my country in Vietnam. Those of us who have been in the military have put up a little monument consisting of flags on a grassy rise on the grounds of the Galveston County Courthouse.