The Hawai'ian

The original title for this post was going to be "never say never" but the above title just seemed more apropos.

42 inches is equivalent to 3 1/2 feet. And 42 inches is the size of the boogie board I was hastily dispatched to purchase, per Charlie's request yesterday while we were at the beach.

For several years, we had three boogie boards, a big blue one (I suspect it was 42 inches; can't remember) and two smaller red ones (35 inchers, most likely). We'd bought one red one at a beach variety store: Last summer, it was thin and faded and cracking. The big blue one was without its strap, which had gotten detached for some reason or other, and then promptly misplaced, as have many things in our back-and-forth visits to the Jersey Shore over the years.

As regularly chronicled since I started blogging in June of 2005, my son Charlie adores the ocean. He first dipped his feet in the Atlantic when he was about six months old back in October of 1997 and, except for the summer of 1998 when we moved from St. Louis to St. Paul, we've taken him to the ocean and, specifically, the fabled Jersey Shore. Charlie has always loved the water. He doesn't run in fully clothed (as he did into Lake Excelsior in Minnesota on the 4th of July in 1999) any more, but he's clearly most at ease and just in his element in the water, and most of all in the ocean. Charlie was 6 when he learned to swim in a local swimming pool but he'd been in waves over his head since he was little courtesy of Jim's arms and back.

Around that time we got that red boogie board and Jim held Charlie in the surf and tried to get him onto the board, held by me. Holding onto a wet board in salt water waves with other people splashing and running around and squealing and yelling and potentially crashing into you with their boogie boards---this is definitely an activity involving a fair amount of gross motor planning. In those first days of boogie-boarding, Jim pulled the board by the strap or held the board with both hands and walked backwards, while I followed and helped Charlie regain his grip or scooped him up when he slid off. Sometimes Jim would drag Charlie-on-the-board out into the waves and try to give him a sense of how it'd feel to get a ride. Slowly, slowly---and buoyed by the kindly encouragement of others (one New York City firefighter in particular)---Charlie was able to hang onto the board.

Jim towed him out into the waves and frequently had to recover both a boy who'd gone under the waves and the board so it wouldn't bang into Charlie. Often Charlie would get back to the sand, rip the wrist strap off, and tell us "all done!" and "hot shower." But over time he was able to keep himself on the board and we added the two other boards to our collection. And three summers ago Jim and Charlie started to go out together both on their own boards, often with Jim holding his board and towing Charlie out with his other hand.

Charlie does more every year we go to the beach. Last year he carried the board out himself and I risked ruining yet another digital camera standing in the shallows and trying to get pictures of Jim and Charlie catching a wave in, side by side. Two summers ago Charlie had his first surfing lesson on a 9-foot-board; last summer, at his second lesson, he got himself into a kneeling position on the board, but said no to standing up.

Yesterday we took the backroads to the beach. There's always traffic going down, especially on the Garden State Parkway, and Jim's mantra is "better to be in motion," and so on local roads we went. Charlie didn't seem to mind being on unfamiliar routes. We made it in good time and Charlie had a huge grin on his face as we neared the beach. The waves were rougher than they were last weekend and he went in slowly after Jim had swum out pretty far; I followed. Charlie was swimming under the waves and frowning at us when we urged him to swim between the lifeguard's flags, and turning to jump just as a big foamy wave hit.

Then he said, "Boogie board."

We don't have the three boogie boards mentioned at the start of this post anymore. Last summer, the old red one became puckered and cracked, the other red one got left behind at an outdoor shower, and I don't remember what happened to the big blue one. So we have been boogie board-less and Jim and I had just been figuring we'd wait till it was time to get another one----and yesterday at 3.15pm was the time.

I hastened to a surf shop to get a board, with Jim and Charlie remaining on the beach. Jim suggested getting one about 35-39 inches and most of the boards I saw were a bit longer. Factoring in Charlie's height I figured, why not, and chose a 42-inch turquoise blue board with a Hawai'ian motif. And drove back as fast as I could with the 35 mph speed limit in mind (and numerous cop cars around to remind me about it). I pulled off the plastic and sped back to the beach where I saw Charlie and Jim in the waves and soon I was handing over the board to Jim who fastened the velcro around Charlie's wrist and Charlie picked up the board and headed into the waves. And turned around and put himself flat on the board just in time to catch a wave and get a smooth ride in, and picked up the board and went back out and caught another wave; repeat, repeat.

It often seems that Charlie (and Jim and I by extension) get at least a little beachsick every year until it's June and we can venture down the Garden State Parkway to the beach again. The water is cold in June but by August, when we head down the shore for a two-week stay in a rented beach house, it's warmed up quite a lot. After we left the beach yesterday, Jim rented a canoe, lifejackets, and two paddles and I know we'll be scheduling at least one surfing lesson for Charlie.

Maybe it'll be the year he stands up on the board and maybe not. He'll tell us what he's ready for.

(Certainly, his new Hawai'ian boogie board).