1982-'83 Wilmington NC

I was looking forward to southern domesticity. Truth-be-told, I naively understood the south through my history classes and Gone With The Wind. The moment I heard my new Mother-in-law's southern drawl I became skittish. I realized quick that I'd just moved into the cotton picken' tobacco state!

All of my Mother-in-law's 5'11" frame was stacked with earned country club. She looked like Elisabeth Taylor. This woman raised four boys alone in a small town, in the south, in the 60's and 70s. (let's pause for a moment to think about that.....). Now she had a son who brought a stranger from "God knows where? California!, Hollywoods in California!"
This large figure was going to make it clear who was in charge. She was determined to teach me about Little Southern Women. Immediately I was in the middle of charming sarcasm covered with "Bless her heart" honey. My new Mother-in-law was very suspicious of me, and she let me know it quick. I might have well been a foreigner needing english lessons.
I couldn't help it though, I loved her instantly, even though I was afraid of her. Eventually we got along splendidly, I had two things going for me before the Dogwoods would bloom that first year, my willingness to go to church, and, I was having her grand baby.

My new entrepreneur Father-in-law was a southern world-wise intellectual. We would have many lingering conversations over the years. Most stemming from the fact that he was an atheist, I was not.

Mark's brothers were cool. One of them surfed and lived with Mark in Hawaii. I had already met him there so, when he moved back to NC the three of us were surf companions. Mark's younger brother lived in a small town along the Neuse River. We were the same age. When we first moved to NC Mark's older brother lived in Baltimore. He blew glass bongs. Later he too moved near the Neuse River with all 5 of his kids.

I had truly entered another world!

My first NC winter was so damn cold, it even snowed, and by the end of February I was pregnant with our son. I had gotten a wetsuit large enough and surfed through the winter and early spring, but when June came I was way to big to paddle. Once summer came, and the ocean water warmed up into the 80s, I went crazy. I wasn't able to surf my first summer nor hurricane season in NC. I spent the whole time learning maternity exercises so I wouldn't blow up like a balloon.

 Pregnant. The shed was Mark's shaping room 

In March of 1982 my Great Grandmother died. She was first generation over from Europe. Finland to be exact. I loved her deeply. Her death was my first encounter with true family sadness. She lived in West Palm Springs Fl. A favored memory I have of visiting her was the time my Mom and I went there when I was in high school.  It was the first time I had surfed West Palm Beach and noticed East Coast surfers. I told my Great-grandmother, Aiti, how cute and polite they were. 

"Yas, my dear, dey are. Don't date em unless dey can Polka dough." she said with a heavy accent and a little grin. I was yet to understand European humor. 

Aiti

When I returned to NC after her funeral I had brought half her kitchen with me. I was feeling the domestic engineer emerging from my soul and my Aiti's cooking tools were like a heritage I wanted to grasp. At this point I was hanging on to my Finish blood. Maybe it was because I was having a baby. Or maybe it was because I had moved to a place where the culture was very different than anything I had known outside of civil war stories.

Aiti left me a little money so Mark and I set up a shaping room with it. Mark had learned to shape while living in Hawaii. I was glad about his skills because kneeboarding hadn't really hit the East Coast so I wondered where I was going to get boards. Mark took templates off of my two Robert Augusts and shaped me a pretty good board. 

By November our son, Shaun was born and I started working on getting myself back in shape for the New Year. I started doing 80's aerobics and both of us joined a gym to lift weights. I bought a bicycle and started riding again. When Spring of 1983 came around I had lost all my baby fat and was ready to hit the North Carolina surf with my new kneeboard!  

Mark's first attempt at a kneeboard. A 5'6 swallow tail twin-fin... 

...it rode pretty good. Carolina Beach, NC

Mark and I surfed a lot after Shaun was born. We'd go to the beach and one of us would sit with our son while the other would surf. Then we'd switch places. We did this with both of our kids. It's probably why neither one of them ever surfed. When Mark and I started doing ESA contests Shaun got real bored. The truth was, the more we won, the more Shaun was at the beach, and at this point, both Mark and I were winning a lot.   

The Transition 1981-'82

Before I leave Hawaii, I have to admit that it wasn't all bad. The surf, for one thing, was incredible! I loved Velzy Land even though surfing there was a little sketchy. Turtle Bay was lots of fun, and I liked Rocky Point when I lived there. Its such a fast wave with a great tube. On the South Shore, Kaisers was the place I'd check out first. The South Shore was always crowded and I had to be real aggressive to be allowed in any take-off spot. After I'd surf the South Shore it was always fun to grab something to eat and watch Point Panics. I tried to ride it once and about lost my cookies. The jetty rocks come up QUICK!

The NSCF was a good place for me. I had met a lot of good people. Us singles would have Thanksgivings together and other wholesome get-togethers. A group of us would go riding our motorcycles up in the hills which was nice, and we had a pretty awesome softball team. I was reading the Bible on my own as I had been for the last few years, and was feeling confident in my spiritually. I had spent time fasting which helped my self-control.
In the future, I would find it funny moving to North Carolina...to the southern Bible Belt. Talk about religious confusion.

The Hawaiian locals were generally generous. I went to a lot of luaus where the families treated me like royalty. My favorite thing to eat was Kalua Pig. My favorite thing to drink was wine.

I had a few people from California come to visit. My Mom came out once and we went to the big island, Hawaii. I had also visited Maui a couple of times with friends.

By brother and and real good friend, Mike, from California, came out to visit. We had a real good time surfing. Both of them have balls of steel when it comes to taking off. In the future we take surf trips to other parts of the world and I witness both of these guys taking on monster waves. 

                          

I loved snorkeling the North Shore in the summer. It was a good way to see what I was surfing over. (Even though the last thing I needed to know was what the bottom of Rocky Point really looked like.) I also found things like watches and bracelets. 

In December of 1981 I was to leave it all for love. Mark and I sold everything and packed up our surfboards. We had $900 and two oneway tickets to North Carolina via Huntington Beach. 

Mark and I got married December 23, 1981 at a very small chapel in Huntington Beach. Ethel was my Maid of Honor. 

By brother was Mark's Best Man. They had never met before.

Mark had never met my Mom yet either. 

My Grandma, Mom, and her husband

The wedding was very small and simple. My Mom had knitted my dress which was incredible in itself. I also got to see a few of my good friends that I hadn't seen in awhile. Ray was there with his wife. What was spectacular however about my wedding day, it was the first time Mark and I had intercourse. No lie girls, waiting has great advantages. The passion of the union can't be matched. 

A couple of weeks after the wedding, (and after Mark and I surfed So. Cal some), we moved to Wilmington, North Carolina. I had just turned 22 and was happy to have a change in life. I found out quickly that NC winters are a big change. The Atlantic waters were in the forties and I didn't even own a wetsuit. At first I hated it. Everything was cold. 

Soon we bought a Pinto and put a down payment on a mobile home. Then we moved near Wrightsville Beach. We both got jobs at restaurants and set up house. For the next 20 years we would take that $900 dollars and turn it into a $2 million surf-filled lifestyle. 

Our home at Black Forest Park, Wilmington, NC

1981 The End Of Hawaii

I decided I needed to move out of the Kammieland house. It held far too many odd feelings for me. First, there was my experience, then there were my neighbors who had their own stories. One girl who lived across the yard lost at a game of Chicken with a stranger and ended up paralyzed. The guy living next door to her was a kick-boxer high on meth, but he took care of the paralyzed girl. He and Imua built a ramp for her. The girl living in the apartment to the left of me was bulimic. And then there was Imua next door. He helped me carry my boxes to my car when I moved to Rocky Point with a friend from church. He told me Da Hui took care of my “problem.” He said the guy had a brother-in-law who was with the Mililani police department. "You Ohana so we rap hees head Hui style." Imua said. I thanked him and gave him a big hug. My arms didn’t reach around his neck because he was so big. I believed he was all heart.

The house I moved into at Rocky Point was the last one I was to live at in Hawaii. I’d gotten my job at Pat’s and was working lunches. I had stopped drinking, smoking, snorting cocaine and even having sex. I became a holy roller. The North Shore Christian Fellowship was full of young single surfers. We all hung out together. I did everything, including played softball, for the church. I started gaining weight so I began the strictest workout program I’d done to date. Most days I’d run to Waimea Bay, swim the bay twice and run home. Sometimes I’d run up Girl Scout Camp Road, which is a pretty steep hill, before the swim. I did hundreds of crunches, leg lifts and pushups every week. I started eating better too. I tried tofu for the first time and decided I didn’t want to be THAT healthy. Everything about me was healing. I had more stamina, and strength. I surfed better and was at the top of my game.

My roommate and me. Rocky Point

I missed my dog Hobie. My brother had taken him when I moved. Now he told me he was going to put him down.

“He’s gotten so bad with arthritis he can hardly move. He doesn’t make it out side when he needs to do his business.” My brother told me. I cried. Then I went to the pound and picked up a dog and a kitten. I had never owned a cat before so I thought I’d give it a try. Amigo was a lab pit mix (big mistake), the kitten a long haired Siamese looking thing. About a month into the whole pet thing I was sitting on the beach with my dog when a local Hawaiin came walking by. He had a fight dog on a leash. When he got five feet from me he let his dog taunt mine. Amigo got wildly aggressive. Good thing I had put him on a leash too. I got pissed and yelled at the guy, "Get your dog the fuck away from me or I'll kick the shit out of it!!" I meant it too. He only laughed and walked on doing the same thing to another person who had their dog on the beach. Theirs was not on a leash. That's how they train fight dogs to be aggressive in Hawaii. When Amigo and I got home he chased my kitten, caught it, and shook the life out of it. I took the dog back to the pound and really started hating Hawaii. I decided it was time to get off this rock and move back to California. However my life was to take another turn.

My boss Mark at Pat’s was a gorgeous southern boy from North Carolina. After he graduated from UNCW he moved to the North Shore to surf. He was planning to move back to NC and take his tests to become a CPA. We started dating. One of our early dates included surfing Chun's. The waves were well over 12 foot (faces). I thought I’d impress him by taking off on a big set wave. I never made the drop. I got caught on a chop and freefell into humiliation. I lost both of my flippers and my leash broke. I was also in the impact zone and got worked! Mark went on the search for my board while I, with my tail between my legs, swam to shore.

“You got balls.” Mark commented as he handed me my board that had been trashed from the rocks.

“Yeah, thanks.” That was the third time I almost drowned….so far.

Mark and I became inseparable. I wasn’t giving up on my pledge about sex before marriage so we never slept together. I’ll have to admit however, I did falter once before I started dating Mark. It was with my Teen-idol Mark Warren. He was at the North Shore filming the Pros during the winter contest season. I spotted him right off the bat and lost all common sense. We hooked up a couple of times until I heard some other Pros hanging out with us call touring hookups “Sport Fucking.” 

“You can take me home now.” I told Mark Warren. He was more than happy too because he was also doinking another girl. Ladies…don’t be fooled. There is no love in Sport Fucking.

Anyhow, Mark from Pat’s was a good southern boy. At dinner one night he told me about his plans to go back to North Carolina. I told him I was working on going back to California.

“Do you want to go to North Carolina? “ He asked.

“Sure, why not. But I don’t want to just live with you.” I didn’t want to go to a place I didn’t know anyone at and have him leave me. North Carolina is a long way from Huntington Beach.

“What do you want to do?” He asked.

“Let’s get married.” I threw out there. Silence. He had a girlfriend that was going to meet him at the airport. They were going to get married.

“Ok.” he finally said. And we began the process. He started by becoming born Again. I started by calling my Mom.

“Hi Mom. Guess what. I’m coming home in two weeks and I’ll be getting married.” She handled the news like a champ, especially when I told her he would be a CPA.

Mark and me

The 21st Birthday

The months leading up to my 21st birthday were pretty crazy. I bought my first duel-sport motorcycle and started riding it all over the place. I'd ride up into the hills and farm fields to have a picnic and play my flute. (I learned how to play one in grade school and always kept it with me.) A couple of times I ran into a squatter and ended up getting yelled at.
"Get the hell off my property!" I'd hear from behind the bushes.
"I'm out!" I'd yell back as I high-tailed it. There were a lot of Vietnam vets living off the land in Hawaii. They were a little crazy too. Once I spotted a booby-trap and really got spooked, but I couldn't resist the views enough to stop riding in the dirt.

One day I was riding to Kaena Point. I stopped to get stoned and heard talking behind me. The voices were getting close fast so I packed up and hopped on my Suzuki. When I saw a couple of guys come out the the bushes I panicked. I quickly got the Suzuki started up. By the time they noticed me I had the bike in second gear and I was leaving a trail of dust behind me. I was becoming paranoid. Rape was rampant on Oahu. A couple of my friends had already become a victim. More and more I started looking over my shoulder. 

One night I was at a party being held at Waimea Falls Park when I came across an old friend from Newport Beach. We headed up the trail to "talk" when I discovered we were being followed. Four Velzy Boyz were quickly running towards us. Three of the guys jumped my friend while I ran into the bushes. One of the Boyz tried to follow me. I picked up a large rock and threw it at him hitting him in the gut (yeah for softball). He fell back and I ran down the trail, past the beating, to get help. My poor friend lost some of his teeth and they broke his nose. Later he moved back to California. I too started thinking about that possibility.  

The days leading up to my 21st birthday were plagued with hefty problems. I was doing far too much cocaine and became very thin. I'd gotten to the point that I craved adrenalin and did stupid things to get it. I started riding my motorcycle home from work at 3 in the morning without a helmet and extremely high. I surfed 4 foot Pipeline high on mushrooms once and almost drowned. I also surfed Sunset at night during a real bright full moon high on Acid. I was carless about who I was hanging out with and started dating Ken who was a Quaalude dealer. I was truly sliding down a slippery slope.  

On January 8, 1981 Ken was in Texas and left me with a bag of pills. The people at work threw me a 21st birthday party. There was a lot of cocaine, Quaaludes, and shots going around. The next thing I remember I woke up in the trees near Waialua. I was naked, muddy and sore. I felt like I had been hit by a train. It took me a long time to find my clothes, and by the time I got to a phone I was bleeding and vomiting. When I got home I passed out for two days. My Born Again friend came to nurse me back to health.

"Do you remember the guy?" she asked.

"Yeah....kinda. I remember him crashing the party and buying me shots."

"You must have gotten pretty blazed."

I felt shame. I was stabbed with the hard reality that I let myself become blind, deaf and very, very dumb. It was a sobering truth that I had passed my drug line-in-the-sand so long ago that I stopped defending my self respect. And at 21 I shut down my conscience and turned off reason. It was as if I was living my own death wish.

"I remember leaving the party." I told my friend. "The guy said he lived in Haleiwa and would take me home." 

"Do you remember his name?" 

"No."

"What do you remember?" 

A long silence...

"Nothing....well....." I started crying, "I remember...." the words choked, "I remember there being more than one." I couldn't breath under all the shame.   

"Come to church with me Sunday." she said.

"Ok." 

Two days later my friend came and picked me up. We sat under the tent at Waimea Falls Park where the North Shore Christian Fellowship (NSCF) met. I hadn't had any coke since the attack and was nauseated. My nose bled regularly, my head and body had been hurting for days, and my hands shook. At church all I could do was sit on the bench, ashamed. I don't recall what the minister preached about, all I remember was the alter call. It was then that I ran to the alter and completely broke down in tears. 

"I want Jesus in my life." I said to Bill Stonebreaker, the minister. 

"May I pray for you?" he asked.

"Please." 

While he and my friend hugged me and prayed for me I, through my uncontrollable tears and dripping blood, surrendered my life to the God I had been reading about. 

After that day I began going to church every Sunday and even during the week. I met a whole new group of friends and attended their Bible studies. I quit my job at Chuck's Steakhouse and got a new one at a restaurant called Pat's at Punaluu where my friend worked, (and where I would meet my future husband). I stopped doing drugs and began gaining weight. Basically I had started a whole new life. 

When Ken returned from Texas I told him what had happened. He came to church with me and became born again too. He flushed his fresh new bag of Quaaludes down the toilet. 

Life was looking good again.

1979-'80 Hawaii

Haleiwa

Tim, his best friend, and I moved into Tim's parents house on the base just outside of Wahiawa. Tim's dad was the Captain so we had a lot of freedom. We even had pass stickers on our cars that had to be saluted. I know the gate-keepers hated saluting, after all, we were only a bunch of young haole pot heads. But they had to do it, and they did. Both Tim's younger brother and younger sister smoked weed, so the five of us thought it would be a good idea to grow plants down in a crag by their house...on the base. When they were five feet tall we got busted.
The whole incident was dealt with silently. The consequence was, Tim's dad had to retire early. The Captain moved his family back to Virginia, while Tim, his best fiend, and I moved to the North Shore. I always felt bad that I had a part in all that mess.

We moved into a house at Sharks Cove and I got a job as a cocktail waitress at Chuck's Steak House in Mililani. It was quite a drive at 3 in the morning but the money was good. It didn't take me long to discover that the restaurant was a cocaine warehouse and distribution center. At times the pretty white powder was my tip, henceforth, my habit was growing like a third red-eye.

Working evenings meant I could surf all day. I quickly fell in love with all the North Shore point breaks. Sunset being my favorite, Chun's a close second. Both wonderful rights that were an easy ride when big. One thing that got my attention and respect real fast was the long paddle outs. I set my sights on getting into shape so I could do them efficiently. I had to sell my bike in California so I was running and swimming to stay in shape. I was also doing quite a few push-ups to build my arms. Using flippers kept my legs in shape. In spite of all the drugs my body was like a machine.

Thankfully I rarely had a problem in the line-up with the locals in spite of me being a haole kneeboarder. I was a blond chick doing a form of surfing that was quickly on the outs but, all those years of surfing So. Cal, with its crowd, taught me well the rules of pecking order. My surfing strategy is to quickly paddle through the crowd and set myself up as close to the peak as I can get. Then I wait patently for the wave I want. Huntington Beach taught me how to hoot a competitor off if they're going to hop me, but, its always my job to be close enough to the peak so a) there is no one closer and I have the right-of-way, or b) anyone closer will get sucked over the falls.
Once in position I wait for a good set, then I focus on the third wave. The reason I pick the third wave is because usually the first two remove the eager-beavers from the crowd. I have also found that the third wave can be the biggest and/or cleanest. I don't know if the big/clean theory is scientifically sound, but the pattern works for me.
Once I catch a wave I always feel eyes on me. If I blow the wave, it'll be a cold day in hell before I get another one.

Tim and I surfed all around the island of Oahu. We still had the military stickers on our cars so we could get onto any base to surf. It was great! He was a contractor and would usually leave the house early to go to work.
"I'm building this big project and will be gone all day tomorrow." He said to me the day before our anniversary.
"No problem. I work anyway. We'll do something this weekend." I replied. I was told the job was near the Crouching Lion. I never heard the full story of what the job was and I never really asked. I took a lot for granted.
The next morning Tim and his best friend got up early and the two left the house. About an hour later I went looking for waves. I pulled up to Velzyland and saw Tim's car. Low-and-behold there they were, surfing. I waxed his windows and weaved my leash around his front suspension and through the passenger's side wheel. I velcroed the ankle strap to the shock.
When he got home I discovered that he had no job (shocker) but had been selling drugs. I figured there was something like that going on, after all, we had all the weed we could ever smoke but, I didn't put two-and-two together until that moment. I did a lot of drugs, yes, but I didn't want anything to do with selling them in Hawaii. We broke up and I moved out.

My place at Kammieland

My faithful car

I moved to a small duplex right in front of Kammieland with a friend and her two year old son. I had a good job, a dependable car, and now a place in front of a perfect surf spot. I was on top of the world. 

A big Samoan guy named Imua lived next door. His bedroom was on the other side of my bedroom wall. I'd hear him and his little asian girlfriend pound, pound, pounding and pant, pant, panting all the time. Imua was a friend of Eddie Rothman so Da Hui would come by to drink beers and cook out. At some point Eddie asked me out. We dated a couple of times before he took me up to his new big house that was being built on the hill above Sunset Beach. 

"And what is it you do?" I asked Eddie. He only shrugged. I knew something about Da Hui and their dealings, and seeing Eddie's house was a confirmation that I didn't want to get in the middle of it. I politely told him that I wasn't interested in becoming a part of the Hawaiian Mafia. He was real good about it and we stayed friends even though we hardly saw each other after that. The best thing was, I now had the freedom to surf the West Side, including Makaha.

I started seeing a guy who shaped surfboards in his backyard. (There are tons of backyard shapers on the North Shore!), and I got my first hawaiian kneeboard. We broke up when he started going to the North Shore Christian Fellowship (NSCF) with a co-worker and fellow kneeboarder friend of mine. My friend and I would spend a lot of time in the restroom at work snorting our tips. One day she decided she was doing far too much coke so, she started going to church. The NSCF met under a tent at Waimea Beach Park. Her and my boyfriend became Born Again under that tent. She never did cocaine again. 

Truth be told, I was still reading the Bible that my Mom had gotten me, but I wasn't ready to pay attention to it, and I was pretty upset about losing my coke buddy. Little did I know that I too was about to crash into a violent wall and end up at the NSCF church.   

My new 5'8" super-light twin fin kneeboard

Summer 1978 Newport Beach

Me and Hobie 

I was free at last! No more school. I never thought of going to collage, instead I worked at odd jobs. I quite Carls Jr. a long time ago and had been working at Marshalls on Beach Blvd. I quickly found out however that I could make more money working in restaurants. I liked working breakfast places because it gave me a good part of the day off, but then getting up early became a drag, so I moved to working lunches. Later I worked dinners. I really started making money when I moved to being a cocktail waitress.

Ray, David and I were having a good time at the Utica house, but something was about to change. 

One evening, after one of our parties, Ray and David stayed up late talking to a couple of girls. 

"Are you coming to bed?" I asked Ray.

"In awhile." He responded.  My chest froze up like an ice cube and I couldn't breath. I was filled with jealously. I wanted to run away from the house and Ray's little private party. I put on my shoes, grabbed Ray's car keys, and I climbed out of our bedroom window. I got into the car and took off ending up at an all night movie theater. I bought a ticket to see The Who's Tommy. By the time I got home the girls were gone and everyone was asleep. Ray and I got into a fight the next morning and it was decided that I would move out. 

A week later I moved back home, but by now my Mom had her soon-to-be husband living with her, so my move-back lasted only a couple of weeks. There was nothing wrong with my Mom's fiancé, in fact, the guy was great. He was better than the guy she moved to Bellflower for. That guy was the sit-on-my-lap-so-I-can-stick-my-tongue-down-your-throat guy. He tried it one afternoon. I ran out out the house screaming, "Gross! Gross! Gross!" and unexpectedly kicked his bass guitar to the floor. It was plugged in and on. The clang was really loud and I could hear it all the way out the door. He didn't try it again. I never told anyone and I stayed away from him at all costs. It was then that I really started getting high just to stay out of the house. I was stoked when he and my Mom broke up.

Anyway, the deal now was, both my bother and I were out of the house and my Mom wanted to keep it that way. Things worked out however, because there was a friend of mine that needed a roommate...and she lived on 41st St. Newport Beach. I moved in with her. I could walk to the waves.   

Once settled into my new place Ray and I began talking again. I loved him and wanted to fix things but he had gotten another girl pregnant. 

"I'm not going to go through all that abortion stuff again." he told me.  

We were done. 

Ray and his new girlfriend got married. They're still married and have two kids.  

After the final break up I spent my time whoring around, having fun and going on surf trips. My brother had gotten a job working on boats in Newport Harbor and was doing his own thing. Ethel would come by and we'd hang out. Sometimes on Saturday nights we'd get really stoned and go to Calvary Chapel Costa Mesa to watch Christian rock bands play. It was my first substantial encounter with the Christian God. My Mom gave me a a bible called The Way, printed in 1972 by Youth For Christ International. I actually read it, (in private). However, this is how Christian I was...

My Newport Beach roommate worked as a waitress at a real posh restaurant in Newport. Sometimes she'd bring home credit cards that customers would leave behind. We'd then go to the swap-meet at the Orange County Fair Grounds and enjoy a spending spree.  (Sorry people..if it's any consolation I've had my identity stolen a couple of times).  

My first car...

I finally got my Driver's License (and a fake ID) at the OC DMV.  

While living on 41st St. I borrowed $250 dollars from my Mom for my first car. I bought a 1960-something Ford Cortina stick shift. The damn thing spent most of its time on blocks in the ally between 40th and 41st street. I had to rebuild the breaks, alternator, replace all the belts and hoses. I had to fix the radiator and replace the clutch. Needless to say I spent all my money on the thing and had a hard time paying back my Mom. We got into a big fight about it. I finally paid her back. To this day I've never asked her for another penny. 

My rusty red Cortina did take me to work, sometimes, and when it did I'd have to park on a hill so I could jump start it...just in case. When I began seeing the boy next door my Cortina sat more and more, dripping every drop of fluid onto the pavement. 

By the end of the summer the guy next door and I were hot-and-heavy. My roommate like him also and got very upset. One morning I came home to find all my stuff out in the street. My roommate wouldn't let me into the house to make sure everything of mine was accounted for so I broke down the door and came close to a fist fight with her. By the time I got my stuff I realized much of it had been stolen while out in the street. It was then that I decided to leave California. I moved what was left of my belongings to my brother's house while my new boyfriend (Tim) and I made plans to move to Hawaii. While I was staying with my brother someone had taken keys to my ex-roommate's nice new brown Porsche 911. To this day I bet she thinks it was me, but it wasn't. She was a bitch to a lot of people. 

Tim, his best friend, another friend, and me: Mexico

Tim's dad was a Captain at Wheeler Air Force Base in Wahiawa, Hawaii. We decided to move there. By now I had surfed up and down the California and Baja coast for a number of years. I figured I was ready for the big time. The famous North Shore! I had a yard sale, pack up my two Robert August kneeboards, and gave my brother the keys to my Cortina, "Get what ever you can get for it." I told him. He got $300 dollars for the thing. 

"I sold it to a guy who liked the surf racks and the stickers." My brother told me in the letter he sent. The letter had a check in it for $200. I bought cocaine and fresh Hawaiian mushrooms with the money. I was never to live in California again...only visit.  

To Date (2011)

I'm heading to the mountains to do some spring snowboarding.
If I don't break something (again) I'll be back writing on Mon. or Tues.
Then I'll tell you about Newport Beach,
and
Hawaii....

Thanks for hanging in there,
FTS

1977-'78 My Senior Year

During the summer of '77 Ray and I went to San Francisco to surf. We made the drive in his Dodge Coronet Station Wagon and we slept in the back with our small Hibachi grill, cooler, cloths and surfboards. We visited some of my friends still living in Mountain View and then we headed for the coastline of the Bay Bridge city.
We pulled up to Ocean Beach and the waves were pretty much flat. Inside I was happy about it because I wear flippers when I kneeboard and some say that attracts sharks. The last thing I wanted to do was look like a big tasty seal in Great White waters. We fiddled around Golden Gate Park then headed south to Pacifica. The waves were fun but the water was very cold, so, when I saw a shark fin I was all too happy to get out of the water.
We then drove to Half Moon Bay, which was flat, but we heard a swell was coming. By the time we got to Santa Cruz a south swell had begun. The waves had picked up to about 8 foot. Ray and I paddled out with the crowd. The water was very cold but I love a good right point break so I hung in there as long as I could. We stayed for a couple of days as the waves grew bigger. Ray and I paddled out at Capitola. I got scared when I got caught inside of a big closeout and lost one of my flippers and my calf cramped up. My head pounded with an ice cream headache and I started to get dizzy. Once back on the beach I thought my lungs had collapsed.
We headed to Monterey. As we were driving we saw some perfect waves down some coastline cliffs. To this day I don't know if the place has a name. We hiked down the cliffs on a horse trail to see perfect 5 footers rolling in like they were made from a machine. We tried for half an hour to paddle out and neither one of us could get past the 3 foot shore break. To date I've never seen such perfectly unattainable consistency. We spent the rest of the day exploring Big Sur.


By the time we reached San Lois Obispo our wetsuits stunk like dead animals (they never had the chance to dry out) and we had run out of supplies. We weren't ready to go home though so, we sold one of Ray's surfboards and filled up the gas tank, cooler and our bellies. We surfed Jalama which was a little scary due to all the closeouts, then we headed to Santa Barbara for the night. The waves were a real fun 6 foot and even though the kelp kept my leash tangled up, it also kept the waves glassy. Santa Barbara is such a lovely place. After that good day of surf we went to see 5 Summer Stories in a small theater in town with a bunch of local surfers. When a couple of them found out that Ray worked for Robert August they let us shower at their house. A hot shower was dreamy.  
Finally we headed home, but not with out surfing Ventura County and Malibu first. It was a great trip!


The first semester of my Senior year I took Car Mechanics. Even though I didn't have a car, nor a license even, I liked working on them. At some point the teacher asked us to bring in a car to work on. I borrowed one that belonged to a friend of my brother's. Not only did I change the oil and rotate the tires, my teacher and I also hooked the horn to the breaks. When my brother's friend picked up his car it didn't take him long to figure out what we did. On his way home he scared the hell out of some school kids when he had to stop so they could cross the street. I got an A in the class.


By the winter my brother had moved to Steamboat Springs Colorado to work as a lift operator and ski. I was home getting sick. I was pregnant.


I stayed really high all the time thinking the baby would just go away, but it didn't. After awhile I had to do something. I went to the Huntington Beach Free Clinic sponsored by Planned Parenthood.
"You're 16 weeks along." I was told, "We can get you in to see a doctor for an abortion day after tomorrow."
"Ok." was all I said. I went home and cried.
I told my Mother when she got home from work. She wasn't surprised and said she agreed with Planned Parenthood. She asked if I wanted her to be there. I told her no. I didn't want to put her through that.


The day of the abortion Ray drove me to a building that was located in Compton LA. The waiting room was filled with young girls there for the same reason I was. Ray and I sat in the corner like scared little mice, then my Mom walked in. I lost all control of my emotions and cried hysterically. The nurse came to calm me down. She took me to the back room with two other red-eyed girls. The next thing I remember was waking up and getting sick. The nurse told me to get dressed and do everything on the recovery list.
"Go to your local clinic for a follow-up." She said, then she was gone.
When I walked out of the place there was Ray and my Mom.
"Are you ok?" My mom asked.
"Yes." I said groggily.
"Good. I'll see you at home." And she got into her car and drove back to Huntington.
Ray drove me home. The pain was crazy. I couldn't stop crying.
Once back home Ray tucked me into my bed. I heard him and my Mom talking but I couldn't hear what was being said. Truth was, I didn't care. I hated myself and all I wanted to do was sleep forever.
Later that night my Mom came into my room with a bowl of soup. She took my temperature and helped me with the bleeding. I never forgot that moment because it was the first time I really felt her unconditional love. She never said another thing about that day. 
When I went for my follow-up they told me everything was fine and they handed me a grocery bag loaded with condoms and birth control pills.
"Come back for refills when ever you need them." the lady said, and I did. 
The whole thing cost me a 3 dollar donation. 


The month before I was to turn 18 my Mom and I had a big fight and I moved out of the house. Ray, David and I got a place on Utica Ave. The place became a big party house, especially when David's brother Craig Peterson was in town. When he and Kevin Naughton would return from some "Far Shore" we'd throw a party and the two world travelers would tell us stories and show their pictures. We had a real big party like that after my Senior Prom.

Edison Prom 1978

My high school graduation was simple. Since I wasn't living at home my Mom wasn't even sure I was telling her the truth about graduating. I don't remember if the relatives came out or not if that tells you anything. After graduation Ray, Mom, my brother and I went out to dinner. Then all my friends, including Ethel, came to my house and we partied heavily. Even though I was happy to be finished with high school, unfortunately, Ray and I were soon to break up for good.

        My last report card. I graduated with a 1.75 GPA (guess what comment #4 means)

(My Mom always told me,"You're not dumb, just lazy." And she was right. I was very lazy about school. 

SO! I want to thank all my teachers who innately agreed with my Mom and gracefully sent me through. ALL you guys were kind. 

To date...I have a BFA in in Creative Writing and a minor in Philosophy from UNCW. Class of 2007. GPA 4.0.  God changes everything.)   

1976-'77: Junior Year

Newport Beach River Jetty    

The summer before my Junior year was interesting. Ray and David went to surf Mexico for a couple of months so Ethel and I started hanging out again and surfed Newport Beach a lot. Then we began heading down south all the time in her car. We surfed Salt Creek until the locals started throwing rocks at us while we walked down the dirt trail to the break. We both loved surfing Trestles and Oceanside so we started driving there more and more. Then we started going to Baja.

Tijuana was not a safe place for a couple of young girls to hang out in so we'd drive straight through to K38, K55, and sometimes all the way to Ensenada. K38 was my favorite surf spot at this time. Its a perfect right point break. I could ride the waves doing big round-houses and vertical off the lips without fear of closeouts, no matter how big it got! If I rode to the end of the wave there was a place to get tubed before kicking out. In my eyes it was heaven...until the federales came around.

One particular weekend Ethel, some other friends of ours, and I went to K38 to camp out and surf. This was when there was nothing but a big dirt parking space with a herd of goats wondering around on top of the cliffs above the surf spot. When we got there the waves were 6 foot and perfect. As the day went on the waves seamed to grow with the incoming tide. Every set was bigger then the last! Within a couple of hours the waves had grown to 12 feet. Some of our friends got out of the water and started taking pictures. The federales saw the cameras and pulled up in a blaze of lights and sirens. They tore the car apart searching for drugs (which they found), then they took the cameras, our wallets, a couple of surfboards, and our food. We spent the rest of the day putting the car back together so we could drive home. It got ripped apart again when we got searched at the border. Good thing the other feds took the drugs.

The constant fear of random searches and sexual harassment didn't stop Ethel and me from going to Baja as much as we could. The surfing was too good. I simply started tucking my blond hair in a hat while walking around the towns and we really watched our backs when we went into bars. Most of the time however, we just stayed at the beach and left all our good stuff at home. Soon we started buying travelers insurance state-side before we crossed the border. It cost $5.

Before school started Ray and David came back from Mexico and brought back a lot of weed to sell so they could recoup the money they spent over the summer traveling. Ray along with my brother and I were sitting at our dinning room table dividing it up and smoking it when Mom came home. We heard her car pull up and franticly started shoveling the Mexican pot up into bags. There was too much of it that by the time she walked into the room we had only succeeded in spreading it around. The house reeked of pot smoke too. We were so busted! And all we could do was laugh (because we were also very stoned).
"I want this stuff cleaned up by the time I get back." was all Mom said. Then she walked out of the house and drove away. She never mentioned it again.

Edison Surf Team 1977. I'm next to Coach John Rothrock. 

My Junior year at Edison was bitter-sweet. I was the only girl on the surf team which was cool, but most of my friends had already graduated and were doing other things. At the beginning of the year Ethel's drug dealing brother took a lot of LSD. He then took off his clothes and walked into the ocean never to return. That convinced me to stop doing LSD and acid (I picked it up again in Hawaii), however I was still using Cocaine regularly. The suicide sent Ethel into another world, one that I didn't understand so I never asked her to talk about it. She had a boyfriend and spent much of her time with him. She went to school while I ditched all the time to hang out with Ray. 

Ray, David and I attended most major Skateboarding events, and I even watched the Z-Boys tear up a few skateparks and pools. We also went to the OP Pro and the Katin Pro-Am that was held every year at the Huntington Beach Pier. In 1977 I met my teen idol Mark Warren and was star struck. Later, in 1979, we hooked up in Hawaii and I was to find out about, what the surf pros call, "Sport Fucking" (FYI, its not flattering to girls), but, at this time I thought he was the cutest guy in the world. 

                                                   Pete Townend and Mark Warren 1977

As far as the surfing world went, it was about this time that kneeboarding was being replaced with boogie-boarding. Less and less surfers went to kneeboarding and those who were already doing it started standing up. I didn't care because I liked the sport and the way I could get into the smallest tubes and take off as late as I wanted too. By this time I had two custom-made Robert August kneeboards, the single fun, and an airbrushed blue 5'6" 23 inch wide 2 1/2 inch thick deep swallowed twin fin fish kneeboard...and all the Victory wetsuits I wanted. I was confident in the line up and aggressive. There was no way I was going to flounder around while trying to learn to stand up. My ego couldn't take the purling. To date I'm one of two committed kneeboarders on the whole East Coast. 

Physically in '77, I continued to workout. I wanted to stay strong since I was riding big surf regularly. Along with push-up and crunches, I was doing leg workouts because most of the So. Cal surf spots were gotten to by trails down rocky cliffs. Blacks for one. I rode my bike a lot for exercise and alone time. My ride would start at Huntington and would mostly take me south to Laguna Beach. Sometimes I'd go all the way to Aliso Beach and watch the local skim-boarders. I also spent a lot of time at the Wedge in Newport Beach. Watching the bodyboarders was always entertaining. When I rode my bike North I 'd turn around at Long Beach. 

My brother had started smoking and at some point I tried it, but I didn't like it that much. 

Road Trips...

One weekend during the winter Ray and I went skiing up in Big Bear. We made the drive in a little sports car. We got real stoned and started the drive up the mountain. About twenty miles in Ray pulled the car over.  

"What's up?" I asked.

Ray pulled the steering wheel off of the car and handed it to me, "You want to drive?" The bolts holding the steering wheel in place had wiggled off and had fallen onto the floor while he was driving. I turned white as a ghost. We put the bolts back on with the wheel and rapped duck tape around the whole thing. Then we went skiing. 

Another time we were at a party when we decided to take a surf trip up the Calif. coast to Rincon "...and maybe farther north if the surf is good," we concluded. It was about 2 in the morning when we got our stuff and hit the road. While traveling north on PCH in Malibu Ray fell asleep at the wheel. I watched as we started heading for the mountain made famous with mud-slides. I woke Ray up frantic and begged him to let me drive. When he refused I took the keys and we slept in the car on the side of the road. About 5am we heard a tap on the window. A police officer told us we had to move on. That morning we surfed Rincon while the sun came up. The waves were ten foot and the wind was off shore. After surfing we promptly headed farther north to Santa Barbara where we stayed for a couple of days surfing. We slept in the car.   

The year ended with me barely passing my classes because I was ditching all the time to surf. I still paddled out at my local breaks like the Huntington Cliffs, Newland St., Brookhurst, and Newport Beach, and I thought it was fun to surf at night under the Huntington Beach pier, but I was traveling north and south a lot, and those surf sessions took all day. There was no time for school in 1977, and even less time in 1978.     

1975-'76: Sophomore Year

At the beginning of the year Ray and I were hanging out more and more, consequently, Ethel began hanging out with the local Newland St. gang. We saw each other less and less. The last class we had together was Traffic and Safety. That was the class that taught students how to drive. Before we got behind the wheel, we used simulators that were in a trailer out by the bike racks. Ethel and I had the "car" dashboards right next to each other. We competed to see who could get Mr. Jennings to talk over the mic first.
"Car #6 you just hit the lady crossing the road." the whole trailer would hear. Ethel and I would giggle.
"Car #5 you just ran the stop sign. Would you two stop please." It was so much fun. And to think we were getting ready to get behind the wheel, together, in the same Driver's Ed car. When I turned 16 I realized my mother had no intention of signing for me to get a driver's license. It's not that I'm a bad driver, oh contraire, it was that my mother saw me as a delinquent (maybe because I never complied to my curfews). I didn't push the issue because by now riding my bike was good enough. The weather in So. Cal. always seemed nice enough for a ride and everything I needed to do was close enough. It also kept me in shape. Ray had a car, and I drove it around if I needed one, or I'd steel my brother's while he was at school. (Edison high School was within walking distance.)

That was the year my Mom went on a business trip and wanted my brother to paint the outside of the house. She filled the fridge with beer as payment. She left on Friday night and would be gone a week. My brother and I had a big party that Saturday night. We figured we'd have the party early just in case something got broken. That way we'd have a week to get it fixed. Turns out it was a good call. In a drunken state of mind my brother had this bright idea of ironing his new 'I'm With Stupid' applique on a t-shirt using our new glass dinning table as an ironing board. When it cracked the sound hushed all 60+ party attenders who were in the house. Outside, we hushed the filled (with stoners) backyard when we put the keg on the picnic table and the table collapsed.
Within the week my brother and I had painted the house and hammered the picnic table back together. We couldn't lie about the glass dinning table so we left out the part about the party when we told our mother what happened. It took her a long time to find out there were over a hundred wasted teenagers trampling thru her house that night. It was long after the pot plants had started sprouting up near her roses.
We had two more parties after that while I was in high school but none were as large as our painting party.

Something needs to be said about the way my brother and I painted the house. Our mom had selected a bright yellow color and a dark brown trim. The first thing we did was to paint a BIG yellow wave on the garage wall of our house next to the front door. The neighbors didn't know we were painting the house because we had started with the back. There was no telling what they thought. No one said anything. The wave was there all week.

Making macramé speaker hangers. 

This was also the year I had sex for the first time. Ray and I were hanging out one afternoon while my Mom was at work. We started kissing and one thing lead to another. I was really scared. I didn't know what I was doing. Penetration hurt but I couldn't let Ray know, so I concentrated on surfing. I thought of how good the surf was the day before when I ditched school and we spent the day surfing Oceanside. I was glad when my first sex encounter was over. Then I got used to them. Then I saw Ray at a party with another girl. I was devastated. She was a Homecoming  princess and a friend of Ray's sister. In retaliation I asked another guy to the Homecoming dance. Ray and I got back together at a party after the dance and I discovered the joys of Make-up sex.

Homecoming Dance 1976

When I turned 16 I got my real first job. Up until then I'd babysit if I needed some cash, but now I was doing a lot more traveling to surf and I needed gas money. Plus I wanted a new kneeboard. Robert had a used one in his shop on Main St. that I liked so, I got a job at the Carls Jr. on Brookhurst and Hamilton. I loved it! I worked a lot of nights with a group of stoners. Deals would go down thru the drive thru all the time. My fast-food job consisted of getting high, drinking spiked sodas, and eating free food. I was also doing a lot of cocaine which wired me out so much I'd scamper about like a machine filling stock, cleaning floors, and cooking my free food. It was easy work. One day I didn't show up for my shift because Ray and I went surfing at Blacks in San Diego (that's when the nudest were all over on the beach). My job fired me only to call me back two days later. "We want you to work for us but we can't have you not showing up without telling anyone." my Manger said. I didn't do it again. When I went into the Robert August Shop to buy the used kneeboard, Robert said he'd shape me one instead. Within a week I had a 5'6" rounded pin with ever so slight wings opaque tan with white bolts down the rails 22 inch wide three inch thick single fin. It was my first custom made board. I still have it. It hangs in a small breakfast house in Carolina Beach, NC.   

The school year ended with my 17 year old brother's gradation. Relatives came from all over to see it happen. The night before my brother was to walk we went to a party. The festivities at the party lasted all night (we were playing drinking card games) and when it was over Ray dropped my brother and I off at our door. He had to carry my brother. He was too wasted to stand and he fell asleep next to the font door where Ray left him, I however went into the house and into hell. My mom started yelling at me the second I walked through the door. 

"WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?" She screamed.

"I was at a party with Russ." I answered. 

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?"

"Yes. Bedtime." I answered. She slapped me. Everyone in the house woke up and ran to the living room. I walked out of the house, picked up my brother, and carried him into the garage where we both spent the night. The next morning the argument continued to the point of my mother slapping me again. I hit her back without thinking and my brother (who didn't get in trouble AT ALL!) smacked me in the face. I went to his graduation with a black eye. 

1975: The Summer Of Love

                                                                         Newport Beach

The beginning of the summer, before my Sophomore year, was spent riding my bicycle to anywhere the waves were good between the Huntington Cliffs and the Newport Beach pier. Sometimes I'd spend the night with Ethel so her mom could drive us to the surf spot of our choice for a dawn patrol session before the winds came up. Ethel's mom would read a book while we'd surf for hours. I loved Ethel's mom for doing that. It kept us from freezing on the ride home in our wet wetsuits for one thing. Half way through the summer my brother got a car, and my whole life changed.

My brother had a group of friends that were avid surfers and skateboarders. They were already surfing up and down the So. Cal. coast and skateboarding like pirates wherever there was concrete. I wanted to hang with them so, more and more I begged my brother to let me tag along.
"Let me go with you guys to Trestles, please?" I asked at the party we were at. We were talking about the waves and how good they would be down south in the morning.
"We're leaving a 5am." my brother replied. The drive took about a hour or so, and the walk to the surf spots was long due to the restrictions of Camp Pendleton and Nixon's house.
"Come on dud, let your Sis come." my future boyfriend, Ray, chimed in.
"Only if I don't have to pay for gas." my brother said, "you gonna pay my share?" he asked me.
"What ever." I had some babysitting money.
"I got you covered." said Ray. It was settled.
To this day I can't figure out how we got up so early after the many drug blasting parties we went to, but the surf was always calling, and we got there somehow.

Ray and I started dating and I fell madly in love. He had graduated in '75 so he was much older then I was. He was very good looking and had a free spirit. His best friend was David Peterson, brother of Craig Peterson. Craig Peterson and Kevin Naughton were the duo who traveled the world finding unexplored surf spots in 1972 (and beyond) for Surfer Magazine. Craig was a Kneeboarder too. Both David and Ray worked for Robert August. David was his surfboard air brusher. Air brushing on a surfboard was ground breaking at this time. Before the color would come from opaque paints added to the resins. This made boards heavy and time consuming to glass and sand. David was one of the first guys to popularize air brushing on a fully shaped blank surfboard. This allowed surfboards to become bright, lighter, and have personal art-work put on them. Ray did Robert's glassing and sanding.

 Rob, Ethel, Ray, and me. Idyllwild Ca.

By the end of the summer I was living the young surfer's dream.  I was surfing all over the California coast. I was skateboarding places that only later became popular (like Dwyer Middle School and drainage pipes in Corona Del Mar), I was hanging out with Robert August, Herbie Fletcher, Greg Wade owner of Victory Wetsuits, and other well known surfers of the time, and, I was in love.

1974: Edison High School Freshman

The summer between middle school and high school was a blast. My mother worked a 9 to 5 job so she was gone all day and both my brother and I were professional Latch-key kids. As long as we did our chores and were home when she got home, we could fly under her radar. Basically, I was free to do any thing I wanted as long as I kept the house clean and cooked dinner. I could do both in an hour.

Ethel and I spent all summer getting stoned, going for bike rides, and hanging out at the beach surfing. I got excited when my skin tanned dark and my long blond hair bleached out. Ethel is Italian. She got very tan too but, her hair was long, brown, and really curly. In the summer her hair was all over the place. She wore a bandana as a hat all the time. My brother had passed my surfing skills long ago and was trying hard to ignore me all summer. At that time I was ok with that, but Ethel was in love with him. She wanted to hang out with him all the time. I wanted to hang out with the local guys at our local surf spot. It's the only thing we fought about.

Me with my first surfboard. My brother is holding the yellow board.

My surfing was getting a little better. I was stronger and I could hold my breath longer (in spite of all the pot smoking). In the line-up I practiced Duck Diving while waiting for a wave. I became a champ at it and cut my paddle-out time in half! This skill also allowed me to go out on bigger days, but that was a double-edged sword. At this point there was no way in hell I was going to take off on a wave over 6 feet. I was still purling. My brother called me a kook because when the big south swells hit, Ethel and I would smoke weed and go for a bike ride instead of surf, while he smoked weed and surfed.

Starting Edison High School was exciting for Ethel and me. We had every class together and we had fun in all them. We had our Newland St. local group of surfers that we hung out with at lunch, and, it was the first time in a long time my brother and I were in the same school. Even though I would be 15 in January of 1975, my brother would be 16 in September '74, he was a Junior when I entered as a Freshman.
Edison High School was over crowded so the Freshmen and Sophomores had to split shifts with the Juniors and Seniors. This amounted to me starting school at 12 noon, and ending classed at 5pm. My brother started classes at 7:30am and got out at 12:30. In the beginning it was great. Ethel would come over and we'd go surfing before school. But when the waves were blown out we'd just sit around getting stoned while waiting to go to school. I had started gaining weight until my brother nipped that one in the bud...
"You're getting fat." he said to me one day. I had gained ten weed-smoking puberty pounds.
"If you get fat you can't hang out with me nor my friends...EVER!" He teased. I took it seriously. I pulled out my Seventeen magazines and put together a workout from the articles. Every night before bed I'd do leg lifts, sit-ups, and tons of push-ups. I slept like a dream and my body shaped right up. I became strong and agile. I was already a fast.

Ethel and I tried out for softball and made it. Now we were able to change our classes so we could go to school with the Juniors and Seniors and have off a good part of the day before practices to go to the beach. Half way through the season however, we had a game against Fountain Vally High and the waves were a clean 4 foot. Ethel and I didn't make the game. We were promptly off the team too. Now Ethel and I were free everyday after 12 (we took our lunch period from 12-12:30). We started hanging out more and more with my brother and his friends. After all, I had grown to be 5'6" and had gotten myself into shape. When he and his friends went on surf trips they'd ask me to go. "Bring your sister," he heard all the time. Gracefully he let me in and we became best friends. Ethel was elated. Our local Newland St. crew was ditching school and hanging out too. We were all on the Edison High School surf team with Mr. Rothrock. Personally, I was still having problems riding down the line with any form or grace, but at least at this point I could ride. I never won anything.

The second semester of my first year in high school they offered surfing as a PE class. We all took it. The teacher was a Kneeboarder. (There were a lot of them around in the 70s.) One day a big 8 foot north swell rolled in and I purposely left my board at home.
"Where's your board?" the teacher asked when I pull up on my bike without a board under my arms.
"Its got dings that need fixing." I lied.
"Unexceptable. Ride my board." he told me.
"But it's a Kneeboard." I protested.
"Ethel, after you surf for thirty minutes give her your wetsuit." he ordered. Then he turned to me he said, "and you can use my board. Stand up on it if you want." then he walked away to play volleyball. Ethel and I just looked at each other. Neither one of us wanted to paddle out.
My brother chimed in, "Don't be a pussy. If you don't paddle out my friends and I will never take you on another surf trip....Wimp." and he paddled out. I believed him.
Ethel had gotten pretty good for a girl and was handling the big waves like a boy. After awhile she came in and ripped off her wetsuit and handed it to me. The thing was wet, sandy, and COLD! I put the freezing rubber on, grabbed the 5' 6" Kneeboard, and headed out.
The first thing I noticed was how easy it was to Duck Dive. The second thing was how easy it was to snap up onto my knees and handle a late take-off. But what changed my life forever was when I discovered how easy it was to tuck into a tube on my knees. Now I had to learn how to make it out.

That day Ethel and I ditched school and we rode our bikes to Main St. I traded my Infinity surfboard in for a used 5'2" yellow Sea-n-Ski single fin Kneeboard. The guy threw in the Duck Feet flippers, two bars of wax, and a leash. I gave him some weed. The next day I showed up for PE with my new board. The teacher was not surprised. From that day on I could hang with the boys in any kind of surf.  

By the end of my Freshman year I was ditching school at least two days a week even though I was passing my classes. I was surfing almost every day and I was smoking weed morning, noon, and night. At parties, I wasn't a big drinker because it always made me puke, so, I did other drugs like Cocaine to get high with the group. The year ended with me going to my first Prom with a guy in my Home Economics class that had a big crush on me. I didn't know him very well and I knew his friends even less. My date's friends teased me all night because I was only a Freshman. One girl really gave me a hard time so I wrote 'Bitch' across her car's windshield and colored in her side mirrors with Sex Wax. She was a cheerleader.

My freshman year was also the year Mother lost tract of both my brother and I. He had a car and we were never home. She never knew of anything we did. The strange thing was, she didn't seam to care.