Hippie Surfer Dude Son

I watched a documentary on the origins of "surf music" a couple nights ago.  It was fairly fascinating.  Surf music of the late 50's and early 60's was jazz.  Back then, in California, the people making surf movies were shooting with 8 and 16mm film and no audio, so when they showed them in small gatherings, they would just put on a record, Miles Davis or Chet Baker, and let the projector run.  Henry Mancini, and, a surprise to me who loves this shit, Martin Denny and Les Baxter, too.  The early live music came from people like Dick Dale, Duane Eddie, and The Ventures, all instrumental, no singing, no lyrics.  In other words, kind of jazzy.  Once the surf craze caught on, mainly after the movie "Gidget" was released, surf music got commercialized. . . and so. . .  The Beach Boys.  But early on. . . it was all jazz.  

Love that. 

When I went to see my mother yesterday, her across the street neighbors were there.

"Here's your hippie surfer dude son," said the man.  Such are his ways.  

When I left, I went to the grocers to get the fixin's for a pho dinner.  I hadn't time to run to the Vietnamese place where I buy the bone broth they cook every day, but I had read a recipe in The Times that said when you don't have stock, buy chicken drumsticks and boil them for an hour or so, then take out the drumsticks and used a fork to take off the meat.  

It worked like a charm.  I boiled them in grocery store stock, added all the spices, peppers, and vegetables, and served it over rice noodles.  Wowza.  

As I was buying the fixin's, I saw a guy a little younger than me, I'd guess, kind of bummy, surfer looking guy, eyeing me.  Did I know him?  I didn't think so.  In the check out line, I heard a voice behind me say, "You were a surfer.  Where'd you surf?"

I turned around.  It was him.  

"I surfed when I was younger some," I said.  "Mostly at the inlet and south."

"East Coast surfer," he said. "Me, too.  I went to the Pipeline once, but it was too much for me."

"Yea, I had a hard enough time surfing here."

I turned back to settle up the bill when he said, "Good hair."

"I pay my beautician for this," I said.  The small Black cashier looked up and giggled.  

As I walked out, I waved goodbye.  

"Keep the sand between your toes," he said.  

Man, that sounded good to me.  

Here's a little clip of my buddies and I in the 9th grade.  We'd all just gotten surfboards and were learning to surf in no break white water.  We had to go with my parents, of course.  But as I've said many times before, pretending's fun.  

Etc.