The Day – Waves of clarity while watching the waves crash on NL beach


New London – It was Sunday morning at My Happy Place, also known as Pequot Point Beach, a stretch of shore where you can laugh for several summers. A day earlier, some of us were sitting in sunny Saturday splendor in the middle of a hurricane party, knowing that the same place a day later would be submerged.

And we partied, a little weird at times, worried about whether Henri would deliver more “Blue Rite!” that “oooh la la!” The concept of the beach not being alike on Monday, losing power for days or other stormy tentacles fits perfectly into the new and intrusive rhythms of the society of crippling uncertainty.

But then a funny thing happened on the way to panic. The law of unintended consequences provided shelter from the storm even without any shelter.

So there we were, this perfect set of strangers, all conversing in the middle of Mother Nature’s carnival, right there on the beach. No one asked about political affiliations or anything like that, not with the waves, hoarse and resounding, treating the shore like the touchdown maker does when he stings football.

Gusts of rain and gusts of wind caused waves that are sometimes seen on television. No, not like Hawaii, but no roadside puddle either.

It was spectacular.

And a reminder of where we stand in the world, especially in the face of something bigger and bigger, no matter how badly we are on social media.

Some of us made a video. Others just watched. The conversation flowed freely and happily, much like baseball fans between the fields. The big, beautiful white house next to the lighthouse was bombarded by waves that ricocheted off the rocks. The occasional wave was heading towards the stone wall that spans Pequot Ave.

It was menacing and majestic.

I couldn’t help but think that different circumstances would probably have prevented any conversation from us strangers. A quieter Sunday morning might have made people walking by the water’s edge more thoughtful, or perhaps just stuck in our own stories. It’s funny what happens when nature puts us in our shoes and we are overwhelmed by something bigger than any individual.

Quite a lesson there.

Full Disclosure: Last week was tough. A number of recent vaccine columns have led to my own outrage which I never saw coming. And I knew it. I became one of them: if you are not indignant, you are an accomplice. I made a social media teardown and got rid of a number of friends and followers. I swore I would never let political polarization affect friendships and relationships.

I was losing.

And then salvation came through the rain and the wind. Maybe they call her “Mother Nature” for a reason. Mothers are champions of caregiving and setting boundaries. Mother Nature gave me both: hope for us, while showing that you can have your beliefs and make a difference without being overwhelming.

Maybe it all comes down to what Rick said to Ilsa in Casablanca: “I’m not good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that three little people’s problems don’t come down to one. mountain of beans in this crazy world. “

We all need to work on our own stories. It is becoming increasingly difficult due to the societal uncertainty of a virus that does not go away and the political polarization that some people wear like an Olympic medal. But for a guy whose life is inundated with spectacle sports, I watched the best spectacle sports ever on Sunday morning: nature delivering a sobering message. We truly are Bogart’s metaphorical bean hill. And one way or another, there is some solace in there.

Inspiration usually comes best when it comes out of nowhere. Sunday wasn’t such a bad day after all. The universe sometimes has this knack for taking the advice of the Stones: you can’t always get what you want … but if you try sometimes … you get what you need.

That’s the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro

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