A Way of Life, Like Any Other

I would not change the beginning for anything.—Darcy O’Brien, A Way of Life, Like Any Other.

I finished a book this week. I say that less and less these days, but saying it always opens the aperture of existence a little more — the Big Picture coming more clearly into view. There seems to be a bit of magic that happens whenever I do too: a parallel surprise where fiction and reality collide for my entertainment.

This week the magic happened when Matt Biolos of Lost Surfboards commented on the greying hair and median age he witnessed at the annual Surf Expo Trade Show in Orlando, Florida — a place he and Mike Reola authentically built the reputation for their …Lost brand in the ‘90s. You can read it here.

I will start by saying I agree with Biolos’s sentiment: the surf industry at large is full of stale grandpa brands holding on too long. Pulling tricks at retail and stuffing discount bins until our once sexy and fun surf culture is suffocated to death by a 50% off sign held by a decision-making silver fox on a stand-up paddleboard in a wave pool.

I’ve actually been paid to go to that specific tradeshow he’s talking about in the past with hopes of “youth-enizing it” (a favorite term of mine). To do this we threw a ripping party with Jacuzzi Boys at some cheesy igloo bar and I found myself eating a McDonalds Filet-o-Fish at 2:30 am to soak up the rum in my tummy. So I’d say we succeeded momentarily. But we also realized the trade show was lame and we never went back. Instead we made: The Factory by the Sea.

The book I finished this week was Darcy O’Brien’s A Way of Life, Like Any Other, about a young boy growing up in ‘50s Hollywood and observing the steady decline of his parents — two former movie stars. “Salty” the young narrator is able to warmly recount the good times — days that consisted of living at their Casa Fiesta compound, horseback riding to the beach to bodysurf with his father and being decedantly pampered and spoiled by his mother. Of course, the good times eventually end after the war and his parents lose their careers, separate and struggle individually, chasing their own demons while their son is abandoned and left to care for them in decline. The surprising part is that he does so with empathy, kindness and humor, never dipping into bitterness or resentment. He simply observes and learns from their mistakes and goes about his youth with charm and humor, a little bit wiser but no less reckless.

I like to think that instead of worrying about what happened at Surf Expo, the kids are patiently doing the same thing for the surf industry: politely waiting for the end because they already know the real definition of the Inherent Bummer they inherited and they’re just too busy going to see The Mainliners at The Tiki Bar in Costa Mesa tonight to care. —Travis Ferré

[Above art: Dead 1970 by Larry Clarke]