10_98 Story

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October 9, 1998

There is a different atmosphere in the West Bay Rhode Island beach community in October. It’s quiet. There’s no traffic. Sea gulls are lined up on favored roof tops. A rare optimistic "OPEN" flag flutters in the North East breeze. Most of the houses are shuttered up, their residents scattered just as quickly as they appeared. Barbecue grilles are stored away for a distant future summer day. Park anywhere you want to; stay as long as you like.

The 4 month "summer" from June to September is over and the real residents - the students in the 8 month winter rental units and the transient surfer population reassert themselves. Telephone company trucks again line up in parking lots to watch the surfers at Tunces. The ambulances are lined up at The Light doing the same. All the temporary "Don’t you even THINK of parking here" exclusionary signs have all been, ahhhh, "removed". Life is uncomplicated, good.

The surf line up is different too. Gone is the bathing suit crowd with the attitudes; the "I" and "Me" crowd; the "in a hurry got somethin’ to prove" group; the part timers; the soakers. It’s wet suit time. In a few weeks the gloves and hoods will make their unwelcome but necessary appearance. Order has been restored to the line up.

There are perhaps a dozen boards and one kayak out today. High tide. Good vibes. Off shore winds keep the waist to shoulder high surf open and clean. It’s no stress fun surfing after a two week period of flat flat flat conditions. An occasional shoulder high set gives a preview of the winter conditions to come.

There is a definite change in each surfer after that first all important stress relieving wave is caught. A morphing from serious and urgent to happy and relaxed. All junkies need their medication. . . The guys already out here occasionally give way to the new arrivals and it lends an air of commonality; community. No problem - there’s always another set.

And there are many small sets, coming from different directions, creating two or three different breaks within 200 yards. Pat materializes in the line up on his long board - an old Dewey Weber he salvaged from a compost heap, of all places. It was missing the nose so he went to work and created a new one. We talk about seeing each New world order other at a distance two nights before in Providence at a performance of the show "Riverdance". I mention the new second mortgage taken out to finance that evening’s entertainment but we both agree that, cost notwithstanding, the show is excellente.

It’s another Friday at the beach front office. My mind drifts back to the many Fridays at work prior to the permanent layoff a few years ago, especially the Friday before a three day weekend like this one. A few angling for an early reprieve from the normal 3:00 PM quitting time and their counterparts advancing the inevitable, predictable 1:45 PM Friday "crisis". For some unknown reason workaholics are genuinely threatened by a three day weekend with their families. I always understood time and a half and double time and even occasionally did a rare double shift. But there are those who are just there to be there.
Not me.

Now those monetary scales have been replaced by their equally rare surfing equivalents: one and a half and double "O" sized surf. The money is not there but it’s a whole lot more fun. And real. Surfing has taught me at least one thing: the difference between a real problem and a contrived one. There is something about an approaching wall of water when you're just a tiny bit too far inside which can instantly reorder your priorities. Working only for "money" no longer makes sense. I’ve gotta like the people and see value in the product. Money is still an issue but no longer the primary one. As for titles, "Quality Assurance Engineering Anaylst - Systems Engineering" sounds a bit pompous doesn't it? Maybe I could drive an ambulance or Bell Atlantic telephone company truck . . .

Pat says he’s going in on the next wave and I take one after him. Feel a little tired and think the previous flat spell has me a little out of shape. Look at my watch and it says 1:05 PM, not 11:00 AM. I’ve been out for 4 hours . . .