Becoming a Man...Learning to Relish the Moment!

My oldest son turns 18 this week.... DAMN I'm old! He's the serious one of the "brood".  At the age of 11 he was the only kid, or adult, I've ever see request a life jacket on the big circle rafts you ride down the 3 ft deep rapids at Six Flags over Georgia.  He's just like that!

I'm his exact opposite. I laugh when I should be serious and I will always be the one hanging off the side of the cliff by one hand yelling "YEEE HAW" and he will always be the one taking the time to untangle the rope and secure his climbing helmet. It's just the way we are!

The nice part is... we both like who we are and we accept each other and respect each other. He knows I will always ALWAYS be there for him and well, I know my son will always respect me.

He asked me how I learned to be so "free" and fun the other day. He knows I grew up in Mississippi and that growing up in Mississippi does not haven anything in common with "free" or "fun".  I told him about my Uncles!

Want to hear a story???

I knew you did!


"Get your long board and get in the truck." Awesome thing to hear from my uncle with the crazy, long hair as he threw my board shorts at me that had been drying over the rail of the back porch. "And don't tell Alice (my mother) I'm taking you night surfing."  I jumped up from the bean bag so fast the darn thing stuck to the residual suntan lotion and sweat on my back. "Leave that here", he laughed at me.

I was 14 and was spending some time in California with my crazy ass Uncles. Life in Mississippi was difficult for me. Fitting in was not something I have ever done well, and fitting in means survival when you go to High School in Mississippi, of all places. So in a trade for good grades my parents allowed me to spend the summers with my Uncles in California. Spending time with my Uncles taught me to realize that "peaking" in High School wasn't my thing. Nope.

My "Crazy Haired Uncle" would drop me and my board off at the beach on his way to work each morning then find his way out to the line up just in time for the afternoon swells. He taught me that there is no better beach lunch than PB&J's with bananas. Because if you couldn't sweet talk the "Betty" Lifeguard into keeping it in her mini-fridge inside the tower it would still be an "awesome" sandwich  with the banana and peanut butter and jelly all melted together after sitting under your towel all morning.

When surfing dinner consisted of "emergency tacos" at Del Taco or sushi (way before it was cool to eat sushi) and sitting at the local coffee shop (again, LONG before there was a Starbucks). I'd drink my Martinellis Apple Cider and he'd drink his "Irish Coffees" and I'd sit for hours and listen to him "wax on" about life, surfing, love, surfing, and then we'd talk about surfing.

He'd get excited and jump up on the bench with his long hair flying around in the evening wind and impress everyone with the stories of surfing off the cliffs in Baja California. I remember looking down at my little jug of cider and laughing, wondering if I could ever be that awesome and cool (yeah it happened)!

Then my "artist" Uncle would show up in his fancy Mercedez and tell his crazy ass brother to sit down.
I can't beat up on Communists too much, because my "thoughtful" Uncle was a Communist before it was "Campus Cool" to be one. He and I would argue and philosophize for HOURS!

At the coffee shop, my uncles always drew a crowd of some of the strangest and most amazing people. People who enjoyed life more than watching TV... hot "Beach Bettys", couples with babies and small kids... old dudes... militant lesbian women... the craziest group you could ever imagine. 

Eventually we'd all walk down to the beach and sometimes make a huge fire and talk about the beautiful things in life, the ugly things to avoid in life and how to make the perfect cup of tea! Or... we'd all just sit there and stare at the fire and stars and be quiet.

I grew up knowing my destiny would not be to live and die in the confines of the southern traditions and mores. But I learned not to despise those traditions and mores, but to relish the good and "shake off" the bad.

I would complain to my artistic Uncle about having a hard time fitting in and he would point at me and say, "Don't let things make you mad. Sometimes people need small worlds so they feel complete... but you, you need a huge world to feel like there is always something else out there! Don't try to rush out there to it! It will wait for you!"

My Uncles took me on some amazing and crazy adventures!!! There are some stories I could tell... but won't... at least not yet!

"It's a surfers moon tonight, Little Brudda!", my Crazy Haired Uncle pointed to the rising full moon. "Perfect conditions to surf.  "The moon calls up the big swells at night!"

I asked what it was like and he looked at me like I was asking why the sky was blue. "It's like day surfing but you just can't see the waves... because it's night. You will need to feel the swells with your board and time the swells by watching the stars on the horizon. When you see half the stars disappear you better already be paddling or you better be getting ready to get pummeled like a pebble."

He had a "funny" thing that when he got "excited" about something his eyes would grow HUGE and his hair would become "electric" and fly around his face.

"Don't we have flashights or something?", I was hoping we would.

"Cha! No man! You become swordfish bait when you wear those mini flashlights." He opened his eyes really wide at me as he shifted the manual shift on the truck and waggled his mop-like head at me... "you just gotta stop seeing and FEEL it, Lil Bruddah! Stop seeing and FEEL!"  Then he seemed to fall into some sort of crazy eyed trance and he got a sort of glazed over look and seemd to stare beyond me as if this epiphony was carrying him away.

I leaned forward into his line of sight and pointed to the road and he acted like he had meant to go into the other lane and honked back at the car as it honked at him (us).  You had to love riding shotgun with my Crazy Haired Uncle.  He drove the little Datsun truck like he drove his dune buggy out in the dunes near the Joshua Tree Desert, wait, that was his dune buggy that he drove! Ha!

We never seemed to surf where the little poser dudes surfed. And I knew we were passing the line from having a surfing event to a surf adventure when we passed through the border for Mexico. Any time he took me down to Mexico it was an adventure... smiling really big now... yeah, more stories for another day.

I knew we were headed for the cliffs! There wasn't a beach at the "cliffs". In order to surf the big sets you had to jump into the ocean from about 40 ft high cliffs to get to the "line up". An adventure for a 14 year old in broad daylight, let alone at night.

His old truck didn't have a working radio so my Uncle was blasting the group Bread on the cassette player he kept under the seat of his truck, "Don't be nervous, Lil Bruddah! Just get into your brain and don't let your brain get into you! (I still don't have a firm handle on what that means EXACTLY but a general idea) If you get turned around just paddle for the lights on the resort. I will come find you there."

He parked his "truggy" about 5 ft away from the edge of the cliff and we both watched the last of the sun go down in silence. I remember looking down at the ten and twelve foot waves and itchin' to get down there and start setting up on some of those barrels that  were forming up... but I knew that was against the rules.

There needed to be the "relish-ment" of the moment. "Relish-ment" was important to my Uncle. It meant to relish the good feelings and not "rush" them. So we sat in the truck and "relished" the amazing scene unfolding as the sun dipped below the lowest clouds  and as it touched the water...lit the ocean on fire. "Gorgeous", was all he would say.

I got out when he did and in almost a solemn way we zipped up our long sleeve wetsuits and started "trimming" our boards. "Don't get caught up in the noise and confusion that you will find out there. Give me a "hoot hoot" if you get too mixed up and I will come to where you are. "Let's fly, Little Bruddah!"

And with that he threw his surfboard out ahead of him and jumped off the cliff into the receding waves. I was right behind him.

He was right! It was LOUD! The noise from the rising surf was compounded by the cliffs and the rocks and I became so disoriented I started to panic a little.  My uncle had paddled up beside me and grabbed my cord that connected my ankle to my board and gave it a quick tug. "Lets get off these rocks, Little Bruddah!" And I followed him out to the line up.

Once out at the line-up I remember feeling a bit more calm and I sat back and watched my Uncle "Whhhhooooop!!!!" his way onto the first few sets. He would start paddling and then suddenly disappear off the edge of the wave... GONE!

But I could hear him! Whoopin' it up like a kid as he dropped down the vertical drop of the wall and into the trough and then shot out like a cannon ball into the foam. My turn!

I put my finger tips near the nose of the board and turned the nose toward the beach. I turned around to see a rising black bulge against the starry backdrop so I started to paddle to gain enough speed to keep up wih the wave. I remember looking back and to my horror the whole sky had disappeared behind this giant black wall, holy SHIT!

My mop headed Uncle I think tried to shout survival instructions rather than encouragement at this point, "You gotta paddle hard, Little Bruddah!" Paddle hard!" As I felt the nose of the board start to wiggle down over the edge of the wave I jumped up into the lowest and widest stance I could find as I began the longest vertical drop I had ever experienced. I remember trying to scream but my breath was sucked up by the wave and I was trying to somehow claw my toenails into the board so it wouldn't fall out from underneath me.

I did as I was taught and maintained my low and wide stance and landed at the base of the wave on my board and then shot out ahead of that wave like a bullet from a gun. I screamed like a crazy man as I picked up speed and cut back up onto the wave just in time to have the front edge close over me like a roaring, black blanket and I shot through the black tube of water. I could hear my Uncles "whooping" as he saw the beastly wave swallow up his little Bruddah! At least that's what he bragged to everyone it looked like back at the coffee shop... BEASTLY! (He'd grin at me every time he told the story!)

Emerging out of the tunnel I aimed my board for shore, trying to avoid getting smacked in the back by the wave, but I was a little late and the wave hit me in the back of the head and sent me and my board spinning.

By the time I came to the surface my Uncle was waiting for me with the other half of my surfboard. He grinned at me and said "Relish it, Little Bruddah!! Relish it!"

The broken board brought the night surfing to an end and we walked the small trail back up the cliffs to the Datsun truck. Not a lot was said... we were doing  some serious "relish-ing". I remember shivvering all the way home. Not because the windows were down and the warm air was drying me off. Nope... I was relishing the rush!

Just like I'm doing now!

"Relish it, today"