R.I.P

The Reward by Brian Kingston. Honorable mention. by Ralph Todd I was a “water baby,” couldn’t drag me away without maniacal protests and biting. I remember my first swimming race; the Woodcraft Rangers summer camp,LakeArrowheadin 1963. I easily defeated my age group and as I flashed back to an old Tarzan movie starring Johnny Weissmuller, quickly connected the dots to being an Olympic hopeful. Made my high school swim team, but didn’t possess a champion’s physique. On the other hand, the fish in me and a surf board were a match made in heaven. Perhaps half the boys at Mira Costa High could recount a similar story and passion. TheSouthBaywas a hotbed of surfing activity in the 1970s. Crowds of boys looking forward to the weekend would gather to discuss the weather, wave height predictions, and of course, girls. Most weekend surfers were called Chum, Minnows and other derogatory names by the hard-core types like me and my friends. We went surfing on weekday mornings at dawn and still beat first bell – mostly. If a storm sent big waves, we got sick. We wore our cuts and bruises proudly and told the wannabies stories of big sets and heroic rides. Like all good story tellers at least…

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