Pathetic...

She looked at my palm and was very quiet for a moment, before slowly looking up, directly into my eyes...there was a hesitation...

You see, my friend had wanted to have her Tarot cards read, she wanted to know her destiny.  She was in the woman's back room, behind the curtain for quite some time; I heard the murmur of their talk but could not decipher what they were saying...I waited...

When she came out, my friend had a big smile, and as we left the woman's little  studio, my friend went on and on about everything the psychic had revealed.  My friend seemed pleased; there were good things in store, much to look forward to in the coming months of her life.  I was happy for her, even as I held my skepticism in check.  It's all a sham, afterall...none of that shit is for real.  But I kept it inside, not wanting to pop the bubble of my friend's moment.  But no, inside, I remained a non-believer...

Yet, somewhere even deeper within me, I wasn't so sure.  You see, she'd nailed me...I mean, really nailed my life.  Oh yeah, I'd had my palm read before my friend went behind the curtain.  My friend wanted me to share the experience; I only had $20 to spare, to throw away is what I was really thinking.  But she nailed it; she nailed me...

She read my life-line first.  "You will live a long life," she pronounced.  Hmmm, well, most of my relatives have lived into their eighties and nineties...even had a great aunt who made it to 100.  Next, it was whatever line that determines who I am, what sort of person and calling I have.  She said, "You are good with people; you are very compassionate and caring and have much wisdom to share. People  gravitate towards you.  You should be a teacher or work in health-care."  Hmmm, okay, so, I've worked in the schools before; I coached soccer for a number of years and was a substitute teacher as well.  I do love teaching kids and have often wondered if I should go back to school to get my teaching certificate.  Also, I currently work in health-care as a nurse's aide and debate  whether my talents might be well served in the nursing profession. 

Hmmm...two for two, I was thinking to myself...

So, last she looked at my love-line.  That's when she looked up from my palm, directly into my eyes...but before she said anything she looked back at my palm.  Some time passed before she said, "Let's be honest," and as she looked up to my eyes a second time she proclaimed, "it's pathetic..."

Slowly she released my hand and solemnly bid me farewell.  And while I waited for my friend to discover her own fate, behind the seer's curtain, I thought to myself, hmmm...three for three...

The Big Red L

We used to look for the big red “L’s” on Joe Cupo’s channel 6 weather report.  The “L’s” designated the low pressure systems from where most New England surf was generated.  Lows moving up the coast from the mid-Atlantic specifically, turning the storms into what are called Nor’easters, primarily because they churn the sea with strong and blustery northeast winds.  Oh sure, every surfer on the East Coast prays for hurricanes and tropical storms, but those are hit-or-miss affairs in general.  Entire seasons might go by without a single tropical system pushing any swell into this corner of the country.  But Nor’easters, they’re the bread-and-butter of New England surfing.  Often bringing stormy, rainy or snowy, or both, types of precipitation, they also yield hit-and-run type swells that may only last a day or two, maybe three if we’re lucky.  The pattern is a stormy day of northeast winds that require a south facing shore, followed by howling northwesterlies that back around after the storm has spiraled off into the upper Atlantic.  These winds groom, and bring sunny blue skys, but they also tend to flatten the surf rather quickly.  Nor’easters aren’t as sexy and don’t usually garner the same amount of hype as the tropical systems, but they oftentimes yield better and more predictable surf.  Sometimes, like the first storm of this season that followed on the heels of Hurricane Sandy, they pump strong and large surf, along with snow and ice and everything nasty where only a surfer can conceive the option of “play” amidst the utter chaos of these unnamed beasts…

 

 

 

 

Chasing Sandy

Rhody road trip.  Red sky morning. Wells to Boston to Newport. Old school navigation, no web cams or surfing maps…discover on my own.  Ruggles. Messy onshore high tide mess; still glorious.  Drive east. Beach breaks and sideshore. Further up the beach, away from the hordes…offshore but windy windy windy. Blurry, burning eyes.  Stinging spray, stinging sand. Coupla rides before windy blowout.  Back in the car. Over the bridge. Narragansett. Pt. Judith Victory-at-Sea.  Around the corner to south facing…offshore, clean and crowded.  Too late in day…turn north for home.

 BIG MONDAY!!! Unruly. Ocean cauldron. Drive about. Washout. Heaving Slabs. Boils. Whumps and thumps. Mind surfing death waves.  Dreams of jet-skis and tow surfing.  Ocean spectacle.  Awesome.

Later in week the ocean soothes…somewhat.  Moody kids scrambling for peaks.  The swell smooths…stays for the remainder of the week…cleaner and cleaner each day but staying up for days more.  Long Sands.  Shorties. Clamdiggers.  River.  Sunday to Sunday swell. 7 days of Sandy.

Playing…while others weep, pray, watch their worlds destroyed…Prayers and thoughts for those less fortunate.  Every swell, every storm, brings Beast with Beauty…