8/15/10 (a day late) Waltzing matildas:
When I was in high school, I made friends for a year with this girl where I was new in town & then moved. She and I went to the beaches north of Boston a few times: Ipswich, Newburyport, and Hampton Beach. I think we went by ourselves a few times, or maybe with others. But somehow, she/we started calling the giant waves “Matilda.” It was nonsensical and thrilling. Leslie pointed out to me that every third wave was larger than the others, and we managed to be at the beach on a few windy days when the tide was dropping or climbing steeply. So you could stand knee or waist deep in bone-numbing cold ocean water and have waves come crashing over your head and sweep in to shore, while shouting, “Matilda” at the top of your lungs, and no one could hear you. Matilda, not the voice heard round the world, but the bone-cracking pulse of the icy water. Matilda! You had to stay in the water for at least 20 minutes to get used to it. Then, you knew your legs were numb from the cold, but it didn’t bother you anymore. Matilda! We would wade out and try to scope out which Matilda would be the best and then try to swim to the breaking point. No body surfing, just letting the water crash. It was like being hit with thousands of soft ice cubes all at the same time, and having them break to rubble at your knees, and all around you for miles up and down the beach, and the little pieces of water would try to pull you around, in to shore, out to sea, wherever. Matilda!!!!!!