My Mom passed away this weekend. She was at home and at peace and we were all there, so it was as good as could be. But I'm reminded that she was a pioneer in the early days of Misquamicut surfing. No, she never surfed of course, but she did provide lots of transportation so I could go surfing. Unlike today's 'Soccer Moms' she knew enough to leave us alone as this was our thing, not hers. She never needed to stay and watch or surpervise. She trusted us to take care of ourselves and I think that fostered some independence that might be lacking among today's 14 year olds.
I bought my first board in 1966 when I was fourteen. It was 9'8" long. A Mako. Orange, I think. I decided on the size because Mickey Sevrens and I bought them together. I was two inches taller than he, and he bought a 9'6" and I figured, I needed the extra length.
Our family car at the time was a VW Karmin Ghia. (Once I started driving it, Paul K. renamed it the Karma Guru) Needless to say, my father was dead set against putting racks on it, so the issue of how to get the boards to the beach became an issue. Thankfully, my Mom stepped up and offered to borrow Okie Martin's station wagon. We would then have to go pick up Mickey and often Peter Misisco and the four of us would head off to the beach. We had no idea if there were waves, whether they were breaking any good, or where they might be breaking. So we would have my Mom drive us all over until we either went in or decided there were no waves and she would make the return trip, dropping off Mickey and then Peter and finally me and then returning Okie's car.
When there were waves, we would tell her, "Okay, come back at 6:00 PM" This would be like at 9:00 in the morning. Usually by 11:00 the wind had turned onshore and the clouds would have rolled in and we would have no dimes to make a phone call to call her to get home early. We would wrap up in towels and hang out until 6:00 when she would come wheeling into the parking lot to rescue us.
Allowing surf travel was another early role for my Mom. Over the winter, Mickey, Jimmy Martin and I hatched a plan to travel to North Carolina's outer banks. Jimmy was 17 and had a license. Mickey and I were 15 that summer. Our only stumbling block was how to convince our parents. We waited patiently until a cocktail party was in full swing, figuring alcohol would impair their judgment and we approached mine and Jimmy's parents. We won approval but my Mom, being the sober one, insisted we call them every day from the road. After that, travel to more distant and exotic places was a piece of cake.
Through the years, she proudly displayed my surfing trophys on the fireplace mantel; made sure that I received the wetsuit I wanted for Christmas, and pitched in the few dollars I was short when I needed a new board. She learned some of the lingo and knew what a kickout was; the difference between a goofy foot and a regular foot, and that offshore wind was good and onshore was bad. She tolerated my sulking when the waves went flat and didn't complain when I missed dinner because the waves were good. As school librarian at the junior high school, she ordered some of the few surfing books available at that time. When I did get my license, she and I shared a car, but she never refused a request from me to have it when I wanted to go surfing.
So that is my thank you to a Misquamicut Surfing Pioneer Mom. There is lots more beyond surfing to thank her for of course, but that is for another time and another forum.
