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Have ‘The Talk’ With Your Sons and Daughters

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I could see it on his face.  He was guilty.  I knew it; he knew it.  What’s worse is that he didn’t even try to hide it—he wasn’t embarrassed and the smirk on his lips told me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” and “I’d do it again in a minute.”  There was no shame; no contrition.  I knew it was time to have The Talk.

It’s hard for for a dad to have the talk with his son.  Where does one begin?  My first time—well, I was like six—wasn’t so bad and I never got caught until after the third or fourth time.  But D is almost 13 and he should know better.

“Son,” I began, “if you come home with a mark like that on your forehead (*sigh*), well, you see, you didn’t use protection.”  He rubbed the abrasion on his head and he knew that I was settling in for a very long lecture.  “A mark like that means you didn’t put your hands out in front of you at some point when you were bodysurfing and you made contact with the ground.  An injury like that is the calling card for a neck-and-back injury, or, worse, paralysis.”  I lowered my eyes and said, “I really thought that I raised you to be a better waterman.”  I could see in his thoughtful eyes that he knew I was serious and that he knew I would be watching his every move—every spinner, every underwater take-off, layback, and every (gulp) no-hander until I was sure he got the message: keep your hands out in front of you, always.

I decided to keep it mercifully short, so I reached into my back pocket and gave him a copy of Project Wipeout’s newest brochure on preventing cervical spine injuries.  “Keep it and use it in good health; maybe pass it along to some of your friends who are in the same situation.  Oh, and it’s also online so that we don’t have to have another talk like this one.”

Pro Shooter Moments

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Things we can’t see, but experience; things we want to experience through the eyes of an artist.

Ben Carlson memorial statue unveiled through the eye of Bib Okvist, Sr.  Thank you and much respect. #lifeguardsforlife

“I’m 3-5′ and building through Wednesday”

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The Pormpuraaw Aborigine of Cape York Peninsula, Australia, use their location–their physical direction–as a means of communicating how they are and what they are doing each day.  For example, if I were to ask, “Hi, how are you?”, they might respond, “I’m northbound, about half way to my destination.”  That’s right, a simple reply of ‘fair’ just wont do.

TIL that D-sauce is some form of Australian Aborigine, because when I asked, “Hey, what’s up?”, he replied, (you guessed it) “3-5′ and building through Wednesday.”

Translation: stoked, charging, styling.  Go get waves.

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Bikini Barber Haircut (free*)

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Once upon a time, a dear friend got a haircut at a bikini barber.  I don’t have to elaborate because all you need to know is contained in those three words.  Haircut.  Bikini.  Barber.  It was unquestionably the worst haircut I’ve ever seen.  He looked like Gumby and, after the novelty of the ‘bikini’ part of the ‘haircut’ wore off, he was stuck with a look that said “this haircut was free.”

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In my view, everyone needs a bad haircut from time to time; it makes good haircuts great and it builds character (directing a barber is like negotiating a peace treaty between waring countries—it takes tact and diplomacy to get what you want).  A bad haircut makes you humble.  A bad haircut makes you thrifty, as you might has well thrown your money out a moving car window.  A bad haircut is the stuff of short stories (that’s to you G. Reed).

That’s why when D-sauce (Dolphunator) assumed his rightful place in the bad haircut club, I wasn’t too concerned.  It’ll grow, dad paid for it, and, well, I thought he it was handsome as hell—and the rest of the afternoon I had to enjoy his knowing complaints was well worth a few bucks.

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The cosmic joke is on the barber, however, or at least our attempt at being The Barber.  Hair grows back in spite of our best attempts to shape our image, cull the wildness, and take ourselves a bit too seriously.  It only took a few days and The Dolphun was back to looking sharp.  He made a real impression on me at his Spring Concert, not only for his playing or his look, but in the way that he managed just one of many bad haircuts he will surely have.

DST Spring Concert 2016

 

Dirty Nights in Newport

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What a great way to spend a Wednesday night: D-Sauce and 20 or so close friends at The Newport Beach Film Festival watching The Dirty Old Wedge–not just one of the best bodysurfing movies that I’ve ever seen but also just one hell of a documentary.

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