The Old Surfer Girl Still Has Some Spunk
by Mary Jane Hurley Brant
Can you imagine that some people never go to the beach? People who reject the sand, the sun, the lotion,
and the rolling surf! I’m not one of these people; I love the beach, the bay, the gulls, and especially the enchanting beauty of Long Beach Island.
When our annual vacation week to be together nears the excitement grows. Before we know it, we’re on the causeway. That’s when a spell falls gently over me and I hear Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys singing only to me “I have watched you on the shore - Standing by the ocean's roar - Do you love me do you surfer girl ….” In truth, I secretly think of myself as “The Old Surfer Girl.”
Yes, I am she, the one, the only, the old salt, so old that the beach house where I stayed during my childhood fell into the bay. It wasn’t the bay’s fault; the place was ready and rickety. So, finding a new vacation house every year, one that suits everyone’s growing needs, is more than an adventure; it’s a mission. This year we found a lovely home in Harvey Cedars just one house from the beach.
Preparing to finally get onto the beach is part of the fun - all that futzing everyone does with lotions, chairs, water, and at least one person’s blaming someone for not bringing something. This year, once everyone felt satisfied that we’ve found “the perfect beach spot,” my grandchildren invited me into the water. “Absolutely!” I responded with enthusiasm. They then proceeded to escort me the entire way and even offered me their arms and hands for stability. I didn’t refuse; this was the first time they have reached out like that since they were toddlers. This slight-of-hand-role-reversal didn’t escape me and their great sweetness washed over me. Another touch of magic.
Wow, just making it through the super soft sand and down that first hard drop was a thrill. “Is it me, children, or has the beach gotten a little steeper this year?” Then, an audible sigh escaped my lips as I stepped into that icy ocean on a 94-degree day. It was so inviting I decided to walk out a little farther when a hidden and steep second drop was under my feet and, OMG, down goes “The Old Surfer Girl.” That’s also when my grandchildren frantically shouted across the breaking waves, “Grandma, look out, another big wave’s coming in fast!” Too late, legs straight up in the air, hair falling down over my face and I’m somersaulting uncontrollably back to the shore. Then, like a three-year-old, I sat stunned in a foot of water wondering what happened. Then the second wave hit.
Now, in the only ear that could still hear after being tossed around came a concerned voice, “Excuse me, ma’am, are you, all right?” I looked up and – Wow - standing right in the water next to me was a lifeguard, all cute and smiling. This is a first. I should have tried this stunt when I was a teenager if that’s all it took.
Upright, and now back on my feet, I see the next wave gaining strength and yelled over the splashing sounds to my grandkids, “I’m riding the next one in!” Man, it was a tsunami and I immediately regretted I wasn’t wearing my new Ron Jon’s T-shirt, which would have been genuine proof of what a master I used to be at body surfing. “Don’t worry you guys, I’ve got this one!”
Oh, holy of holies, up close the wave was monster size so I frantically tried to get under it but, too late, I’m tumbling, tumbling, rolling and rolling. Right then I knew that the wave got me instead so … I. Just. Let. Go.
A serenity and peace washed over me then, redeemed me, purified me. I experienced a feeling of freedom and surrender that I’ve not had since I was a child. But, wait, it gets better.
Upright once again, I tossed my wet hair around like Christie Brinkley on the 1979 cover of
Sports Illustrated. With my tan shoulders thrown back, and my head held high, I swished and swayed like I’m in NYC on the catwalk. That’s when I heard the whooping and clapping from three guys about my age standing not far away. “Yahoo! said the one guy, “that was wild watching you out there.” The second guy shouted, “you didn’t know when to stop!” The third, “better than a Philly’s game! Down you went, up and back down again. Man, talk about perseverance.” It was a moment. That’s also when I noticed that the logo on the one guy’s T-shirt said “HURLEY.”
“Hey,” I said, with an ever-widening toothy smile on my face, you’re wearing my maiden name on your T-shirt.” I know, I know, I shouldn’t be flirting with anyone; I’m married fifty years. Besides, those years of cavorting and prancing around in the water are long gone, way in the past, to be forgotten once and for all, right Old Surfer Girl? That’s when the devil - wearing a wetsuit and a grin, jumped into my thoughts and wickedly whispered in my ear, “Hey, Old Surfer Girl, a little flirting is good for you; besides, where was that wonderful, worried, and solicitous husband when you were close to drowning and taking your final breath, hmm?”
So away she walked, The Old Surfer Girl, waving to the crowd, chuckling, kicking her toes in the sand and thinking how every black and blue body bruise she wakes up with tomorrow will be sooo totally worth it.
Published August 19, 2020 TheSandpaper