Is Nothing Sacred Any Longer? (Please Don’t Answer…)

Growing up in the Midwest, I had heard so much about the California surfing experience. I was told, “If everybody had an ocean, across the USA, then everybody’d be surfin’, like California, you’d see ‘em wearing their baggies, huarache sandals too…” (Thank you Beach Boys!). In pursuit of such an experience, my wife and I packed up the family and moved to southern California about a decade ago.

The whole surfing experience is more than I ever imagined. First of all, learning to navigate waves on a surfboard hasn’t been as daunting as I expected. Plus, it’s incredibly relaxing and enjoyable.

I even gave up golf after my first week of surfing. I went from using expletives like “f***” and “s**t” on the golf course to expressing verbal sighs that were more like little whispers from my soul saying, “Hey, take a moment friend.”

For me, sitting on a surfboard in the ocean is like being in a self-created sanctuary that’s been completely customized for me and my personal bulls**t. Best of all, it doesn’t matter how well I surf or how many waves I catch or don’t catch. None of those “artificial” goals matter. What MATTERS is the experience and the tranquility of being with Mother Nature. It is truly about the journey.

That said, picture this: it’s just a few short weeks ago at first light and I’m going through my routine of stretches. I survey the wave-breaks and find the spot I want to surf. The sun is just peaking over the horizon and it’s certain to be another awesome day in paradise (except for state taxes, of course). There’s little to no wind, the air temp is about 68 degrees, and the water is about 65.

I enjoy surfing at first light when the crowds are small. It’s usually just 3 to 5 of us regulars—my own little "surf club" made up of buddies with diverse skills and personalities. My wife (aka “the boss of me”) made it clear early on that I couldn’t surf solo, so now I’ve always got backup with me. I even created a schedule!

On this particular morning, there are many more surfers than usual—at least a dozen— which I attribute to others thinking this day will be awesome too. About 15 to 20 minutes into our collective journey on the waves, as yours truly is getting lulled by Mother Nature’s scents, sounds, and serenity . . . a phone rings, and it’s quite close, less than 10 yards away. I s**t-you-not!

Somehow, here in my surfing haven, a vintage ringtone has disrupted the calm, catching me and my small team of regulars off guard. Moments later, one of the non-regulars starts a loud, rapid-fire conversation, talking into his wrist while balancing on his board.

We only hear one side of it, of course, but that's more than enough. Is nothing sacred any longer?

My “surf club” buddies look at me. I look back, shrug, and ask, “What can we do to fix this?”

Without a word, one of my buddies—the one who acts as our main “surf guru, and keeper of the surf sanctity/spirit”—paddles right over to the surfer dude. The next thing I know, Mr. “Surfer Dude” is headed back to shore alone, with the conversation on his smartwatch/phone seemingly on hold. Problem solved. (Apparently, my buddy, the surf guru, decided it was his job to handle the situation!)

It turns out you can be a leader no matter where you stand or sit (or surf). Leaders don’t solve problems.

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