There's a season of deep introspection where you come to better understand yourself. It's comforting. It provides freedom and purpose if you let it.
I grew up in a small town on the New Jersey coastline where the population swelled from 5K locals, to 40K visitors during the Summer months. As small towns can go, it was picturesque, quintessential, Rockwell-esque. With dramatic 4-season shifts in the weather it could be epic at times but more often it was unpredictable and inclement. My upbringing was conservative in most ways. Conventional team sports, academics, religion, propriety, traditional American values.
At 9yo, my parents split and Mom (who was a teacher) got a summer gig at a Snack Shack on the beach. My brother and I ate hot dogs, played pinball, and spent every day on the sand. Before long I was body surfing, standing on rafts, belly-boards, boogie-boards, skim-boards – anything I could get my hands in. There was an older lady on the corner who was cleaning out a storage area under the front porch just as I happened to run past. She asked me to stop and proceeded to drag a 6’10” Plastic Fantastic single-fin out from pile of debris. This belonged to my boy, he was killed in the Vietnam War. He’d want you to have it she said.
At 15 I travelled to Southern California where I surfed Blacks, Wind-n-Sea, Swamis and River Jetties. I met my heroes Shawn Stussy and Lance Collins who gave me stickers and tee shirts. I fell in love with a blonde-haired blue eyed siren wearing the first pair of cobalt blue stirrup leggings I’d ever seen outside of a gymnasium. I ate my first Roberto’s carne asada burrito. I found home.
After High School, I threw my boards and a bag into my car and didn’t stop until I reached the Pacific. 48 ½ hours just me, McDonald’s and Licensed to Ill.
The bread crumbs are all there. When I look back, I can see what shaped me. East Coast meets West. Conservative shattered. Radical born. Breaking out. Chasing feelings.
