Adrift

One look at Waikiki Beach and I felt like a new man already. Sunshine, sand and tropical sea—a welcome change from the workaday world I’d left behind in Pennsylvania. “Paradise,” drawled Tex, my longtime friend from the South. We’d met up in Honolulu, Hawaii, in 1962, with our wives for a vacation. My pal and I were already in our swimsuits.

“Let’s go surfing,” said Tex, his eyes daring. “What do you say?”

Neither one of us had ever surfed before. “Sure,” I said after a moment. “How hard can it be?” Tex and I were both close to 50. He was six four and powerfully built. I was barely five ten, in good shape but no athlete. I looked at the waves crashing against the shore. Can I really do it? I wondered. Then I dismissed my doubts. I’d never been the kind of guy to say no to a challenge. “Let’s go!” I said. We rented surfboards from a tanned beach attendant. Tex hoisted his like a pro. But the board was heavier than I’d expected, and it towered over my head.

As we walked down the beach, Tex said, “We’ve got the place to ourselves.” I waded into the surf, relieved to put my heavy board in the water. Tex and I plopped down on our stomachs, and started paddling ourselves out to sea. I was a strong swimmer, but my arms and shoulders soon ached from the effort. We had to go a long way before we could catch the waves, and I was glad to have the board to get back to shore. It was a far trek for a swimmer, even a good one like me. Lying on the board, I raised my head to look around. No other surfers were in sight. Nothing but God’s endless sky and mighty sea.

The waves were enormous, roaring around us like white tornadoes. “Let’s try this one!” Tex yelled as a frothy monster roiled to our rear. We thrashed our arms into the water, aiming our boards for the curve of the wave. Whoa! No luck. The sea was too strong for us. We were both thrown off our boards.

Too proud to be defeated, we climbed back on and kept trying. Wave after wave, we got buried in the surf every time. At one point Tex glanced in my direction. “Want to go back?” he yelled. I grinned, shaking my head. I didn’t want to give up. I’m man enough to do this! Once more, I pushed my board into an oncoming swell, but I was battered into the sea again. I came up gasping for breath, groping through the water for my board.

“Okay, I’m beat!” I shouted, finally willing to admit it to my friend.

Continued on page 2: I gripped the board and closed my eyes.... »