Swell Memories Weekly Article
April 25th, 2005
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The Cure
The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea…
I did not pen the above statement; although throughout my life those words have rung true on more than one occasion. There have been times in our lives when we have worked our way through problems, cried our way through personal and family tragedies, or cleansed our souls in the sea. Certainly for me, salt water has been a cure-all.
Spring of 1971. I sat on the low wall that was underneath a breezeway on the campus of the college I was attending. Occasionally a friend or acquaintance would walk by and say hello or comment they missed me in so-and-so’s class. All I could muster in return to their polite gestures was a morose hello or mumble some inaudible comment. The only thoughts going through my head were those of my girlfriend - or rather, my ex-girlfriend. I was crushed. One day we were madly in love – or so I thought. Literally the next day she had left town with some guy from New York. It had been two weeks since I last saw her. I wasn’t sure who I was mad at…me for being so gullible, naïve and incapable of reading the relationship, or her for just simply dumping me for some New York disco geek. Regardless, I had lost my first true love.
As I sat there I heard the distinct rumble of my friend Bill’s VW bug. Bill pulls up next to the curb by the breezeway and says “its cleaned up about 3’, maybe an occasional 4’ by the pier, shut up, get in, and don’t blabber on about your only love – I don’t want to hear it.” “Let’s go surfing.” For the only time in my life I hesitated about going to the beach. I quickly realized I wouldn’t pay any attention in class and if I was lucky I might drown at the beach. So in the bug I got and off we went.
By the time we got to the beach it was late afternoon and I only expected us to stay for an hour or two. Sure enough, Bill and I paddled out into semi-clean surf in the 3’- 4’ range. Mostly right-handers, but close to the pier it was real peaky and you could go either way. I took off on a right hander and for a few seconds I forgot about my ex. Bill takes off on a right hander as I paddle back out. He gets a quick head-dip and I give him a hoot. He kicks out next to me and two friends paddle back out together. A shoulder high peak comes through, I go left and Bill goes right. We meet up next to the pier after paddling back out and talk about the wave. This scenario continued on; Bill and I would catch waves, encourage each other, and talk about a whole myriad of things while we waited for waves. The late afternoon turned into an evening that exploded with all the vibrant colors of a tropical sunset. Mother Nature continued to paint the sky as Bill and I - now alone in the ocean – caught wave after wave until we found ourselves sitting in a dimly lit circle of light provided by a flickering bulb mounted on the pier above. We commented about the moths around the light when we realized we were no different than the moths – attracted by the light and waiting for something good to come by. Unlike the moths, we knew when to leave….it was pitch black when we paddled in.
After those first few waves the memories of a lost love were just that – memories. The instant Bill and I got out of the water I realized my first love – the ocean – had cured me from the melancholy brought on by a broken heart.
Bill and I put our boards on the old Aloha racks, fired up his bug and went off in search of something to eat. As I recall, during that journey to the local eatery, Bill and I never spoke of my ex. We talked about surfing, being poor college kids, when we’d surf next, and what line we would use to convince the waitress we were of drinking age and in fact could order that pitcher of beer. Life was back to normal.
For those that are friends of or married to surfers, those friends and loved ones often act as doctors – they know the cure. Salt water will cure just about anything.
-Dermot
