The Last Wave
In terms of a favored sport there is nothing in the world quite as profoundly meaningful, to me, as one I have always done alone, sometimes feeling as though I may be the last of my kind. Which is to say I may be the last man of my age who still body surfs. Meaning alone, naked in all my primordial glory--or at least armored with only a thin layer of cloth--against the sea. I have been to every beach in North America (more or less) as well as Hawaii, China and New Zealand, and swum (yes, swum is the correct verb form!) out into every kind of surf since I was a young boy oh-so-long ago on the Jersey shore, and ridden a wave back with nary a board or other contrivance, and always, always, always, I did so alone and loved every microsecond of it. But now, after six decades of doing this, I see a deeper meaning (no pun intended) in these all too brief moments in time, in the sea, with their flashes of ancient fear, and present excitement, and yes, sheer joy. I have skiied from th