Cold Weather Blues

The extreme cold has me dreaming of warm water and snorkeling. When ever I put on my dive mask this indelible memory flashes through my mind:

Tom and Jerry’s was the corner store in Seaside Park where my family vacationed when I was a kid. When we lived in the big gray house called “Camelot” on G Street, the store was a short walk from our house.

Seaside Park (or just Seaside as we called it), is on one of New Jersey’s barrier islands, which are long thin strips of land, running north and south, with the Atlantic Ocean on the east and Barnegat Bay on the west. The island is only four or five blocks wide, and Camelot was on the bay side, only two or three houses from the waters edge.

Every summer of my childhood was spent down the shore, at Seaside. We stayed in three different houses over 16 years, my favorite being “Camelot”. G Street is far enough from the boardwalk to be quiet at night, and close enough to be a pleasant walk to the “honkie tonk” (as my father calls the games and arcades of the Jersey Shore).

The house was up on pilings and had two levels. Most years, my Aunt Jo and her family would rent the downstairs, and we would rent the upstairs. Aunt Jo’s son, my cousin David, was one of my best friends. The place was big: three bedrooms, a large kitchen, and a living room, which led out to a huge screened in porch with a beautiful view of the bay. You could almost see the ocean when you looked to the east, but it was just a little lower than the horizon line.

With three bedrooms we had plenty of space. Mom and Dad had one bedroom, Grandmom Benson (my Mom’s mother), had another, and I had the one in the back of the house.

For a few years Grandmom lived with us in our home in Robbinsville, but she almost always vacationed with us down the shore. This was a summer that her presence with us made an indelible mark on my life. I don’t think she knew how powerfully a small gift could impact my future. It did, and I remember, and that is what I am going to tell you about.

When I was eight years old, one of my favorite television shows was “Sea Hunt” starring Lloyd Bridges. This was the first television show to feature scuba as a regular part of the action of the show. Lots of under water shots portrayed the under sea world as a mysterious and adventurous frontier. Watching Lloyd Bridges diving underwater, I just knew I had to see that for myself.

I wanted my own scuba gear in the most profound way.

“Two Guys”, a department store near our house had a mannequin with full scuba gear on it, in the sporting goods department. Every time my parents took me into that store, I had to go look at it. I stood there and dreamed of being Lloyd Bridges, and scuba diving off of our boat.

Dad refused completely, my frequent requests to “buy me the scuba gear please…” (it didn’t occur to my eight-year-old mind that the adult size would be miles too big for me). That didn’t stop the passion from burning. I just had to see what was down there!

Summer finally arrived. We went to Seaside, as usual. Aunt Jo wasn’t coming down until the next week. I was alone down the shore until David got there.

Several times over the first couple of days of vacation, I was sent to Tom and Jerry’s to get bread, milk, candy, ice cream or what ever the errand demanded.

Pay dirt.

Like a magnet I was drawn to the beach toy section of the store. There among the rafts, beach chairs, buckets, and shovels, on the bottom shelf, was a scuba mask. Miracle, of miracles, it was just my size. I had to have it.

Two problems: one, I had no money of my own; two, I knew my Dad was not about to finance this adventure. I was faced with despair.

Every time I went in the store, I would examine the dive mask, try it on, and imagine the undersea world that would open up to me if it was mine. Then I would purchase what I was sent for, and walk home in disappointment.

On one of these return trips home, Grandmom caught me at the door. Grandmothers have a sixth sense on these sorts of things, you know.

She asked me what was wrong. I explained the situation, and my reason for being so dispirited. I cried, big tears rolling down my cheeks. I really wanted to have that scuba mask.

Grandmom always had a way of turning my focus toward other things, which would get me out of my self-pity spiral. She did it again, and I forgot about my Lloyd Bridges crusade for the evening.

The next day, when Dad was out fishing, Grandmom called me into the kitchen. She said we needed some butter, and asked me to go down to Tom and Jerry’s for her. I said OK. She went into her room to get some money; she came out with two five dollar bills. She said to me “This one is for the butter, this one is for you to get that scuba mask.”

I ran all the way to Tom and Jerry’s. There it was on the shelf. White plastic skirt, rounded triangular lens, metal adjustment clip to make it fit right, and it was MINE! I paid the man at the counter, and took the butter, and my new scuba mask home. I left the butter in the bag, but I carried the mask like a religious relic.

That afternoon at the beach I was underwater more than I was on the surface. The lifeguard didn’t really like the idea; it was difficult trying to keep his eye on me when I kept diving down out of site. It didn’t look like the crystal clear water of the Caribbean, like on Sea Hunt, but I was down there, and I was entranced.

Since that day, I have always owned a scuba mask. In college I got my open water scuba certification. I have gone skin diving in dozens of locations in the Caribbean, and in Bermuda. I still love the silent world under the waves.

My Grandmom is gone, but the mark she made on my life that hot July day in Seaside will never be erased. Every time I don my mask to go diving, that memory bubbles up in my heart.

Never underestimate the long lasting power of the simple things you do for the people you love. With our actions, we leave indelible marks on each others lives.