OK, So here it is Saturday... ::MD:: has been up for three hours pacing the floor... "We're sorry but there is a problem logging you into SecondLife."
WHAAAT? But it's Saturday morning... Surf's up... Oh you... never-mind.
In lieu of my morning surf I guess I will start this thread for people to tell crazy surf stories. Either RL or SL. I know you all got them. Here is my first. It is my introductory piece as your new SL Business Columnist and Field Reporter for SurfWatch News & Views. I will put the link below. Please give us a read and subscribe to our feed to get the latest in all SL Surfing News.
But for my SLSA friends, you get to read my first before press time, enjoy:
I was born a long time ago in Chula Vista California. An actor named Regan who was famous for sleeping with a monkey was Governor of the State... but I digress.
My Father, an Auto Mechanic, was an Olympic hopeful Ski Jumper who got his knee injured in WWII which he had been drafted for right out of High School ending his Skiing career. It also made it difficult for him to do allot of sporting activities, especially ones that required allot of twisting.
We lived in a quiet neighborhood where the people next door without pause would stretch a hand out to help the family down the street. Not unlike the people of our SL Surfing community do. The killer thing was not more then five miles away, on any given day, there was sun, sand, surf, and festivities going on. Welcome to southern California.
In the 60's our economy was structured allot different then it is today. Family's were not quite as "equally" balanced as we are now. Not saying good or bad, as I seemed to have been raised fairly adjusted, or at least my Mother tried her best against all my best efforts. What this time did allow for was the "stay at home Mom." My Father worked hard long hours away from the home each day and my Mother worked equally long hard hours to manage the home, my half-sister, and me.
Mom had a tough time with me from the start. I was born two weeks premature, c-section, and they almost lost my Mother to bleeding. I was born at 11:36PM Christmas night in 1961 putting my Mother and Father in a panic for the entire 1961 Christmas season. Mom was a trooper though as she had successfully brought forth a son. Her only child as it would turn out due to the complications of the pregnancy.
In my early years the doctors had to work hard to get me fixed up. See in those days we didn't understand the dangers of smoking and drinking like we do now. I don't blame my mother, she didn't know. In my first 3 years they repaired a hernia, put my tiny frail body in an oxygen tent twice to treat pneumonia, and it looked like I was going to have adolescent asthma.
My Mother took all this and the fact she couldn't have another child hard. To find comfort she would spend hours on the beach in a cabana tent rocking me, listening to the waves. She told me later in life that being sick I would cry allot and it seemed like the the waves would make me calm down and eventually sleep in her arms. She said she would sit and cry and pray to God I would be alright. Boy howdy, be careful what you ask for!
Our next door neighbors were a retired couple named Walter and Teresa Bent. He was a retired Aerospace Engineer and she was a beautiful older Spanish Lady who I remember cooked really well. I used to go from the time I was allowed to walk next door with my mom to the Bent's and would bug Mr. Bent like Dennis the Mennis. Mr. Bent had this thing up in the rafters of his garage that I would bug him about. "Wasss that?" He'd reply "a surfboard." I'd without pause ask "Can I play?" he'd say "Nope not old enough, but when you are I will teach you."
Well after much discussion with my parents, during summer vacation after my year of Kindergarten, it was decided I could learn to surf. Mr. Bent would teach me as my Father couldn't with his knee. My Mother was not too happy but my Father assured her that he learned to ski that young it was "good for the boy's development!" Ha! Little did he know.
Mr. Bent had gotten this monster of wood with a single shark fin down from the rafters and had done his best to fix it up. I didn't care that the varnish had yellowed and cracked. It was huge! It was amazing! And... Mr. Bent's, trying to lecture me while I stood in awe of this thing on two sawhorses I had only seen in a distance watching the surfers on the beach, only words that rang through to my head were "If you can learn to ride it... it is yours!"
Now I don't know if y'all have seen a 7 foot Hennon from 1960. Not a longboard by any means, but a thick monster of a board for a 60 pound first grader standing all of three foot five inches. Mr. Bent started me on a built up mound of sand teaching me how to lay on the board, paddle, pop a jump to my feet, boogie and crouch. Over and over all morning until I could do it on command he worked me like a Drill Sergent. We all had a picnic lunch and then after the proper wait time not to get cramps we went wet!
Well, I took to it in grand style. I'm telling you, I was a natural. Now I was surfing about a foot to eighteen inch fluffies but I was spotting my waves and paddling as hard as I could and riding to the shore. Every now and then a roller would curl just a bit and I was the next grand champion surfer shooting that curl. Then it happened... A little bit bigger wave came and even though Mr. Bent had told me to pick my waves carefully I didn't listen and I experienced my first headlong off the board official kawabunga style face plant! Ouch! Cry! No wait! don't cry! I couldn't cry because Mr. Bent would not give me the board. I found the board and grabbed it and headed back out to the waves. It was then I realised... I had lost my swim trunks.
So picture the scene, this small boy paddling like crazy on a board twice his height in length bare butt proudly pointed to the sky. I wasn't stopping. If I stopped I just knew Mr. Bent would be mad I lost my trunks and wouldn't give me the board. As Mr. Bent would try to catch me I would shift my wait get low in my crouch and shred that wave heading back out for the next one, my Mother with my trunks in her hand shouting for me to come in. There I am over and over, wiener in the breeze, shooting my first waves and showing total disregard for authority. I bring those same qualities now to SL.
Mr. Bent gave me the board. (I don't have a picture of mine as it is long gone but I've included one from the Malibu Online Surfboard Museum http://www.malibulongboards.com/hannon.jpg)
Mom took in my trunks and instructed me in the Morality or lack of of nudity.
So... Late at night... When you find me trespassing in your private surf sim, riding your curls butt naked? You have got two options: Stand on the shore and shout in the immortal words of my Mother "Get you ass back here and put your swim suit on!" Or... you can strip off your clothes, thank God for the waves, and ride free with me.
Please read this and all of my upcoming reports and columns on SL Business as it pertains to our Community at http://surfwatch.blogspot.com/
And look for articles by our other amazing writers Tauri Tigerpaw, Editor-in-Chief; Ashleigh Dickins, Reporting Editor; Colleen Brennan, Special Correspondent; Socks Clawtooth, Senior Furry Correspondent; Abel Halderman, Special Correspondent; and our nutty bag waring Dr. Love our Love Advice Columnist. All of these people are SLSA members working hard to bring you impartial news on everything SL surfing. I am proud to be included in their midst.
Thank you for including me in your Family. Until next time... Aloha.
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