by Jarret Liotta

WESTPORT — I can’t speak for anyone else, but I largely love a good storm!

Even when last summer’s freakish squall left our power stymied for five interminable days and nights without air conditioning, I still somehow found the experience strangely delightful — and I sweat like a Moon Cow!

Growing up in the north end of town near the Coleytowns, I remember several breathtaking storms battering our region, complete with environmental chaos and — on those more rare, remarkable, heart-thumping occasions — the always-cherished accompanying blackout.

In the annals of kid-dom (to paraphrase the great Jean Shepherd) there’s nothing like a good blackout.

If friends or neighbors had generators back then, I didn’t know it. Instead the utter silence of the post-storm night was eternal and immense, like the illustrious, frantic wind, the frenetic white flashes of bright day-like lightning, or the belly-poking baritone moans of echoing thunder.

More importantly, all the contrived trappings of our hurried little world were completely put on hold while the power ceased and we were temporarily thrust into the present-minded awareness of a kind of suburban survival game.

I don’t mean to make light of the chaos or calamity that some endure through these storm situations, but still being blessed with that kid-like enthusiastic spirit — or perhaps (some might argue) an infantile mind — I discover great joy and fun in the upside-down world of storm city.

There are two main reasons for this …

The first involves a heartfelt adoration for minor chaos — anything out of the ordinary, anything to jostle the stoic routines of regular living, anything to wake us up from our sad, staid sleep — I tend to love it.

Let the storm clouds roil and give us a memory, distinct from the thousand sunny days we float through without noticing a difference.

It’s a residual holdover from my dysfunctional childhood, to some extent, where I learned to equate routine with dour living. Any event that’s going to shake up the trees and taunt promises of new and exciting happenings augments my endorphin output and tantalizes my relatively abnormal giddy bone.

(Of course, who amongst us can claim to be all that normal in 2021, particularly in light of the operatic dimensions of our weird new world …?!)

And with no small irony, the other reason I find such value in these storm-related scenarios is the priceless opportunity they offer to bring us together as a community — both at home and throughout the town.

Last summer’s power outage literally forced my kids and I to turn our attention away from electrical devices and engage in different ways. We actually spent many hours playing board games, which we hadn’t done in years, and even had several simple, extremely fulfilling conversations that literally went on for hours.

It was crazy cool! The inviting power of the various blue lights temporarily tamed, we rediscovered, by sedate candlelight and strange new silence, the bounty of actual old-school engagement … It was crazy cool!!

Likewise, it’s markedly fulfilling to see our town come together in various ways with the stress and competition of daily living temporarily stayed, and the focus of a common concern quilting us together with a shared, old-fashioned sense of unity.

Like the subway stall in Felix Unger’s New York City, these storms tend to bring out the best in people, and that’s simply nice to be around.

So I won’t say I’m hoping for another storm any time soon …

But when the moody dark skies begin to bubble with newly animated clouds dressed in 60 shades of grey, and the sea-salted winds toss words of warning over the shifting grass, summoning the birds and squirrels and deer to seek shelter before the squall comes …

Yeah, I’ll be kinda psyched!!