Post #560612 by The Gnomon on Tue, Oct 19, 2010 3:57 PM

I grew up in New England and had the opportunity in 1964 to live on Oahu for a summer, mainly to learn how to surf. Back home the surf was rather dismal. Fortunately, my mom drove a lot and when I was on school vacation, she would take me across country to visit friends in Chicago, Texas, and California. Clearly, Route 66, yellow brick road of the Motor Inn! What a wonderful childhood! We had family in Redondo Beach, so I made my mom take me to Huntington Beach Pier for its surf reputation.

Of course, I had no board, but I was determined to shoot the pier. Stupid, which I knew in advance from a close view of the barnacles on the pylons. But I don't think any surfer would fault me for body surfing through them. I made past the outside pylon and kicked out right after. Better than nothing. My mom made me come out of the water at that point. She was hysterical. Heh heh. That run was just for me. No time to impress the beach girls nor vie for position with the surfers. Just a shot through the famed pier and then on home or to the hospital.

That's my connection to Huntington Beach and why I'm compelled to extend my best wishes.

If I recall correctly, when I was there it was the earliest time I ever personally saw surfers wearing helmets. They seemed like hockey helmets. I'm thinking about a third of the surfers were wearing them then.

English got me again.

[ Edited by: The Gnomon 2010-10-19 16:01 ]