Skippy Catches A Wave and Then Some

Today was magnificent! After all the lallapalooza about dreaded tropical storm Hannah, the only thing we got in Long Island was a deep soaking rain. No wind, tornado's, water funnels...just rain. Honestly, I was glad since we were looking forward to another amazing day at the beach. Let's face it, fall is not far off so it's best to take advantage of the sun and fun before we start shovelling of snow.

We decided to get an early start of things, enjoying a flavorful smorgasbord of breakfast yummies over strong coffee and the Sunday newspaper. I can't decide which I like better, the weekly advertisements or the succulent fold-outs like the Travel Section or better yet, Fan-Fare, listing all entertainment here and in the city during the forthcoming week. I just found out today that White Christmas is actually coming to Broadway this holiday season. As some of you already know, I'm fluent in everything Christmas, so you can expect me to be in the orchestra pit for this little ditty. From Thanksgiving to New Years, you can expect to hear any of the many Irving Berlin tunes sung in the movie to pop out of my mouth. I'm more inclined to sing the Rosemary Clooney portions since we share the same key and pitch, although I'm a bit tone deaf, so says the man of the house, wincing every time I belt out another chorus of, "County Sheep."

Now, enough talk of the stressful holiday season and back to the beach. After arriving at Lincoln Beach, we discovered a totally rad surfing and boogie board tournament in full swing. We opted for the boogie board side of the beach since it was less crowded and had better tunes pumping. The MC was straight out of California with his sunny talk and laid back demeanor as he carefully monitored the comings and goings of his beach real estate that was part of a live feed web cast.

The waves were enormous, reaching heights of 15 feet at high tide, giving East Coast surfers the ride of their lives. Boogie boarders were skimming, flipping and spinning their way across the rabid waves, not only earning valuable tournament points but street credibility with fellow surf mates from as far away as Hawaii. As the roar of the wild surf echoed across the beach, white foam filled the shoreline. Surfer's were hard to see once they got in the pipeline and ripped the curl but when they emerged from a sick wave, all bets were off for small-time wannabees like myself. I dabbled in surfing back in the late 1980's, 1960's California style. I was fascinated with the The Beach Boys, Jams, Surf Magazine and catching waves, even though I was in landlocked Albany New York, far from the Malibu scene I coveted and honestly didn't exist any longer. I used to call myself Skippy back then, thinking someday I be able to hit sick waves with the best of them.

When I lived in Cape May, I took an old long board out a few times but I wasn't confident in my ability to control it, much less stand up on it. If I had extra money, I would have taken lessons but I didn't and that issue seems to be an ongoing factor in many of my failed dreams. I guess I was just another "ho daddy" that would rather watch from the shore than get in there and hit a few sick rides to wow the crowds.

Yesterday's unbelievable event captured my attention all day long, with a national long board event, and something called "Expression Session" where about 12 surfers hit the water and let it rip for about 20 minutes, riding wave after wave, doing amazing tricks in waves that were double their height. To me, it was the ultimate afternoon. It allowed me to reach deep into my past and satisfy my insatiable appetite for surfing. Cowabunga dude! I'm ready for a marathon of Gidget tomorrow so I can wallow in the mystique of surfer days gone by.

Catch a wave!