To protect and to surf
This story in the L.A. Times really spoke to me. It's not just about the death of a long time California surfer, it's about adventure, counter-culture, and the sad feeling we get as we watch what made us feel alive and different fade away into myth and legend.
As a kid in high school in the 70's I dreamed of bronze surfers with flowing sunbleached hair. I felt like if I didn't get to California right away, I'd die. My parents wouldn't let me go to college at UC Berkley - my first choice - or at UC Davis - my second choice. They knew I'd never study there. I was too badly afflicted with the adventure bug. Instead I went to college in Missouri. Yep, MISSOURI! I really despised Missouri, (sorry Missouri people.) I stayed there one year, and so I wouldn't break my promise to my Mom to complete two years of college, I crammed two years WORTH of college into that one year. All I thought about was making my escape.
It was inevitable that when I went to the Florida Keys on a summer course in Marine Biology that I would use that as my jumping off point. I won't say I never looked back. The pull of the family was still strong, and they guilt tripped me into coming home, where I put in a few more years at college. But the die was cast. I had the adventure monkey on my back, and I couldn't NOT feed my need for the sun and the sea.
I never thought I'd be ALIVE past the age of 40, so every day is still an adventure for me. My dreams never extended this far, imagine that! I never imagined children, or a perfect husband. Dogs and cats, yes, but never my own FAMILY. I still look around me in amazement all the time.
The cliche's hold true - the kids are really the greatest thing I've done in this life. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to have married MY husband - no other man could be better suited to me. But then there are the unwelcomed surprises that came with the 40 year mark. My body doesn't respond like it used to. The elastic in my belly must have snapped, because the waistline never went back to normal after those darling babies stretched it out! That really makes me mad. It might be o.k. if I could blame my no longer slender shape on abuse - and there was abuse in my wilder days. But for 11 years I've lived a very clean life with exercise, healthy eating, and all the rest of it. All my recent photographs scare me. The woman I see there is NOT me.
I wondered if life might be easier for people who have never been beautiful, but as I played with that notion, I realized that most people have SOME special skill or attribute that fades over time. And we all know that feeling of longing for what we once were as we grow older. Just like the longing expressed in this article about the old California surfers...
This story in the L.A. Times really spoke to me. It's not just about the death of a long time California surfer, it's about adventure, counter-culture, and the sad feeling we get as we watch what made us feel alive and different fade away into myth and legend.
As a kid in high school in the 70's I dreamed of bronze surfers with flowing sunbleached hair. I felt like if I didn't get to California right away, I'd die. My parents wouldn't let me go to college at UC Berkley - my first choice - or at UC Davis - my second choice. They knew I'd never study there. I was too badly afflicted with the adventure bug. Instead I went to college in Missouri. Yep, MISSOURI! I really despised Missouri, (sorry Missouri people.) I stayed there one year, and so I wouldn't break my promise to my Mom to complete two years of college, I crammed two years WORTH of college into that one year. All I thought about was making my escape.
It was inevitable that when I went to the Florida Keys on a summer course in Marine Biology that I would use that as my jumping off point. I won't say I never looked back. The pull of the family was still strong, and they guilt tripped me into coming home, where I put in a few more years at college. But the die was cast. I had the adventure monkey on my back, and I couldn't NOT feed my need for the sun and the sea.
I never thought I'd be ALIVE past the age of 40, so every day is still an adventure for me. My dreams never extended this far, imagine that! I never imagined children, or a perfect husband. Dogs and cats, yes, but never my own FAMILY. I still look around me in amazement all the time.
The cliche's hold true - the kids are really the greatest thing I've done in this life. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to have married MY husband - no other man could be better suited to me. But then there are the unwelcomed surprises that came with the 40 year mark. My body doesn't respond like it used to. The elastic in my belly must have snapped, because the waistline never went back to normal after those darling babies stretched it out! That really makes me mad. It might be o.k. if I could blame my no longer slender shape on abuse - and there was abuse in my wilder days. But for 11 years I've lived a very clean life with exercise, healthy eating, and all the rest of it. All my recent photographs scare me. The woman I see there is NOT me.
I wondered if life might be easier for people who have never been beautiful, but as I played with that notion, I realized that most people have SOME special skill or attribute that fades over time. And we all know that feeling of longing for what we once were as we grow older. Just like the longing expressed in this article about the old California surfers...