Friday, January 8, 2016

When Waves go Bad

Yesterday's post about respecting the sea brought up some memories. One was a truly close call at a beach near LA. It was September, 1985. Kelly and I had taken a train to Santa Monica to get a brand new Toyota at a very low price because the family of a friend at Green Gulch owned the Toyota dealership there. Drove from the dealer to the beach. We drove right up to a beach and there was no sidewalk or store there. The waves I was dealing with were nothing like this photo. Didn't seem so threatening.

There was no one swimming and a sign warning about undertow but I thought I'd just get wet and get out. There were some good waves fairly close. I barely got back. The waves kept sucking me down. I'd finally get back up above water and take a quick breath then be violently smashed down and pulled back. Somehow I got out gasping, stars in my eyes. Grateful to have made it. Didn't say anything much to Kelly, soon to be twelve but I thought about how I'd almost left him there alone.

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