Another day at the beach - Compo Beach, Westport

10/11/09: Here was the last planned class reunion get-together. Compo Beach was the largest beach in Westport. During summers it crowded with residents and only visitors willing to pay the fees for parking and admission. Residents obtained a sticker good for the season. During the winter there was far less activity, but still proved popular for fisherman during bluefish runs up the Atlantic coast and into Long Island Sound. During high-school days, we came to get away. From parents, school, the establishment, and be free in our windswept white sands. Three jetties reached out into the water. Each created it's own tidal pools chocked with small crabs and fish, endlessly satisfying the curious toddlers and young adults alike. The harbor accommodated our boats. Our parents had the larger boats, we played with our sailfish and sunfish. A few of us had catamarans, and later Hobie-cats joined the scene. A mile off-shore lay Cockonoe Island. Visible from Compo, the island was less than a mile long and the only access was by boat. This day, the group brought coffee and bagels and we sat and ate, and reminisced about our new friends and still more about our old times together.
A couple of things were said to me that I'll take with me forever. Ed said that it seemed that I was more like I was in elementary school. John said that he thought he picked up on a sense of something positive about me, gesturing with his hands, maybe referring to an aura, or so it seemed. Here was the circle for me. Was I coming around, or was the circle complete? Here I was, having drifted away in cloud from adolescence right through my twenties, to emerge now, here in my early fifties, seeming to others that I was more like I was in elementary school. Granted, I'm way past the halfway point in my life, and possibly past the halfway point of my adult life, and I've found and acceptance from others I'd not found before. Was it the guilt or shame of poor decisions of adolescence, an insecurity born of childhood drama? Who knew? The feeling of being accepted, and of being whole and full was worth the effort.