A sinkhole swallowed Nicolas Cage’s driveway. It’s a warning for every coastal neighborhood.

There is a kind of terror-tinged embarrassment that comes from dozing off on your beach towel on the sand, only to find a rising tide intrude upon your mid-nap bliss, lapping at your toes and sweeping away your sunglasses.

It is a truth I relearn every June, one that arrives like the season’s…