One of the lost Sebbeths: K-Dog.

One of the 12 Days of 40 was Learn to surf. I put my faith (and ass) in the hands of my very good friend K-Dog ('I believe you'll thank our host this evening, for the use of an alias') (bonus points for naming that movie) K is a great friend and buddy, amazing father, skilled delegator, and awkward dancer. His family is like mine, each one funnier than the next and when they all gather, it's usually a Lovefest of increasing aural volume. We've known each other for several years and though we don't get together as much there's an assurance that the friendship can be picked up right where it was last. Back to my faith (and ass).

Vintage pix of KDog, last day at Duker.

K is a skilled surfer in the Santa Monica hood. His presence on the beach sends lesser surfers and homeless alike scampering away as if he was Obi Wan Kenobi. He has become my Obi Wan and my Billy Banks. I am enrolled in KDoggie's Surf Academy. (Board of Fiberglass Education) I have learned to deck change (lose your clothes on the street, changing into your wetsuit under a towel. This has always amused me whenever I drive to work. I pass many of these surfers doing the same. The most difficult thing is getting into the wetsuit. It's like a vacuum or a new skin, two sizes too small. I look like a geriatric fool getting into the suit, but it's so worth it. I've also learned to duck dive which is where you dive under the enormous wave which would crush lesser fools. You sneak under the energy of the wave and retain your cool. K's teaching me surf cool.

Surf Cool is a lot like dog walking. The turf is marked and the bigger dogs are regarded for their skills. They address each other as 'Brah' and have a whole sub language. They can 'vibe' each other to criticize their spacial awareness or lack of etiquette. They shred, they rip, they tube. I feel it stiffening in my brain, or maybe it's that the water quality of Santa Monica is suspect. It's a great sport, swimming in a petri dish. They really mean 'Toes on the Nose'. I know that K has maintained his individuality from the heard, though he is bilingual to surfspeak.

Yesterdays lesson wrapped up in fine style. My patient K-Dog cajoled and prodded me in his Boot camp. I got up a few times, and rode one for a little bit. I really am enjoying this activity I was thinking while watching K catch some water for himself. When he was done, making everyone in the vicinity look like spastic orphans on ironing boards, he told me there was no leaving until I got up again. Boom I was back on the board, looking for the wave. It came, I paddled like a madman, pushed up and slid off. I was learning in bad conditions yesterday according to K, low tide and small swells. "Back on, Do it Again!" the drill sarge barked with glee. Back on, back out, waiting. Here it comes, paddle, paddle, paddle and.....................push up! Nosedive. Nose of board into the beach, surfer into the wave. Surface. The teacher has gone bananas. Bananas I tell you. He's jumping up and down, hooting and howling. He's waving his arms shouting, "That's how we end a lesson. Yeah!". I was less thrilled with that particular moment in my schooling then realized he was commenting on the surfboard, split in two. I was mortified, and he was elated. Education is weird. The board had seen a lot of action, and then had been given to him. He put some miles on it and taught students on it. It had served K well. I was still in shock and then found the humor.

So we boogie boarded the rest of the lesson on the shattered instrument and put the board in the trash on our way back to the day. As much as a reality check getting into the wetsuit getting out of it's even funnier for newbies. My teacher is pleased with my progress and elated in the humor. Back to the day we go leaving the beach behind. He had conference calls I had NetFlix. KDog, thanks for starting this wave of activity (funny on two levels) and for being as patient as a circus tattoo artist decorating the backside of a constipated elephant. I'm learning more and more each time and soon you'll be able to look cool again. Peaceoutside.

"Brah, I shred so hard man, I break my stick."-Tony Spats, total californitized new englander, on turning 40