I am drawn to bodies of water. My first love is to great Seas like the Atlantic of the Caribbean. But for much of my life my joy has been the “cozy confines” of Long Island Sound & most of that time my appreciation of the Sound has been split between Woodmont and Norwalk.
The Sound represents the southern border for the entire length of Connecticut. The further east along CT’s shore line the smaller Long Island itself appears on the horizon. By the time you reach Hamonasett Beach in Madison, Long Island is barely discernable. Not a bad thing.
Mommie Soph had a cottage in Woodmont (about a third of the way between New York and Rhode Island), parked squarely on the beach. That cottage, more familiar to Paula, Paul & Lynn, is on the edges of my memory. But it is safe to say that I have been frolicking in the Sound since the days of taking my first steps. And probably peeing in it, too.
This latter activity has been a sport with me for as long as I can remember. Now if you do this as many times as I did, you eventually realize that emptying your bladder in the cold waters of the Sound creates a warm spot in your immediate vicinity.
As I say, I have been doing this for a while, most recently on the 4th of July in front of Alan & Lynn’s in Woodmont… and I consider myself somewhat of an expert in the field (I am convinced that our “spy satellites” can pick up the “heat plume” from miles above the earth’s surface… one day I expect to have a knock on my door from the Agents of the EPA with a Cease and Desist Order).
Now we could leave this part of the story there; but it should also be noted that I took uncounted pleasure, while splashing about in the waters off Calf Pasture Beach in Norwalk in beckoning my kids to me after I had relieved myself. I was convinced that they would find amusement in discovering the “warm spot”. Much to my chagrin, they found this activity “gross”.
Gross? Excuse me! To me it was completely “natural”. Go back five hundred years, and do you think a Mashantucket Pequot Brave, chest deep in water, havesting Little Necks & Cherrystones in the Sound, feeling “nature’s call”, would go running out of the Sound to pee on a tree? I don’t think so.
Go back further. If we are to believe (as many do) that the Pequots are one of the Lost Tribes of Israel, then this tradition stretches back to Biblical times, and it is my opinion, supported by recent archeological evidence & contrary to prevailing belief, that Moses divided the Red Sea to create two different “rest rooms” — men to one side, women to the other.
So much for “gross”. And so much for this part of the tale, because the “warm spot” I had originally in mind, and to be described here, is of a very different nature.
It may have been last week, or the week before, when Shaina and I got to talking about stuff. I am interested in what my kids remember about their early childhood experiences. I have written about my perceptions as their Father… but it’s great to hear the other perspective.
We talked about a case of the “cold hands” (something I would regularly submit my kids to on Winter mornings). It was Shaina who brought up as a counter point the “warm spot”. You see, those same cold mornings that provided me with the aforementioned frigid digits, also created in stunning contrast… the warmth and coziness of the vacant spot in our bed when Ellen got up to begin her day.
It was Shaina’s belief that perhaps no greater joy existed than the morning “warm spot” in our bed. This warmth, and its soothing effect, was fleeting and apparently it created somewhat of a contest between the kids as to who could claim it first… who could get closer to the epicenter.
Yep, I can see seizing the “warm spot” would be a worthy contest.
So I have been thinking about this for a bit and the way I figure it, the origin of the “warm spot” goes back to the concept of “nesting”, and this truly transcends species… it is totally mammalian. And more specifically “maternal”.
Think of small furry ones nestled close to Mama, she herself in a snug burrow, or a hollowed enclosure, curled with her young providing warmth. This is elemental, it projects images of safety and caring.
Mama leaves the den to go hunting for breakfast and the wee ones re-postion themselves in her vacated spot.
And so it was the same for my kids. Mom gone to make breakfast and school lunches, they scurry to get to the “warm spot”… to snuggle in the lingering warmth of her presence.
I have no memories of doing this when I was a kid. But I’ll make a guess and say that it would have been my nature to do so. Seeking the warm spot is clearly a part of our development and necessary in producing caring and balanced adults.
Fathers can do alot… but the warm spot? Definitely a “Mother thing”.
But then again… there always is Long Island Sound.