Few things have remained constant in my life for the 25 years I’ve been here. The first thing is my parents love for my sisters and I. That has been unwavering. Despite how I’ve felt at times about them, and despite how I imagine they’ve felt at times about me. It is only my hope that I will get to provide for them and be there for them in some similar way that they have for me. It is also my hope that one day I will get a shot at being a father and a partner, and will get to pass on the beauty of this world and this life I was freely given.
Which brings me into the second constant of my life, the ocean. My parents started taking me to the beach as soon as they could. My mom, Maria Christine was born and raised in Imperial Beach, CA, a small beach town in the southern most part of San Diego. Her mom, my grandma Bea, raised her, her sister Tony, and their 3 brothers Bernard, Ray, and George, all on her own. From what I understand, they didn’t have much, but my grandma Bea did everything she could to provide for her family. My dad, John Patrick, on the other hand, was born and raised in Asheville, NC, a small city in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. His parents, Jane and Bob raised him and his 4 brothers (David, Joe, Mike, and Tom) and his sister Fran right there in Asheville. My parents met in January 1993 and were married by the end of the year. Also important to note, my dad left his pursuit of marriage to Jesus via the Jesuits, to be with my mom and raise a family. He told me “I just couldn’t give up the chance of having a family.” Just last year, 26 years from when he left the Jesuits, he was ordained a Deacon in the Catholic church and his religious calling continued. My parents raised my 2 younger sisters (Mary and Elizabeth) and I in Coronado, CA, a small island nestled in the San Diego bay. With the ocean on one side and the bay on the other, there was no shortage of wave riding and water gliding.
Back to the ocean. For the majority of my life I have been surfing, body surfing, boogie boarding, swimming, skim boarding, you name it. The ocean has always been there. From dawn patrol sessions before middle school to big winter swells at Blacks this past year, no matter what (minus brief geographic interference like boarding school in Kansas) I continue to show up at the beach.
At this point, I am starting to reassess my own surfing and relationship to surfing, surfers and the ocean. I notice If I am not careful, I can slip into the sort of attitude or outlook that I claim to dislike in others. What this really looks like is loosing site of why I am out there, and results in me trying to get as many waves as I can. I am out there to connect with nature, which is one way I connect with to God, or the power greater than myself which binds me to others. I am out there to have fun. I am out there to relax. I am out there to experience some relief from the ever so demanding societal expectations and pressures. I am out there to dance as Dianna Vreeland says, “between the water and the sky.”
How can I give back to something that has given to me so abundantly. How can I share what the ocean and surfing provides me with others. How can I tap into this life of abundance, grace, and opportunity that has been given to me and that my parents have worked so hard to make possible. I think it starts with the little things, continued kindness, love, and compassion to others. I also think it looks like taking my turn, surfing when it makes sense for me vs. forcing sessions to get my fix. I also think it involves helping others ride waves. I’ve copped out from this in the past by the notion of “surfing is a solo pursuit, I had to get myself to where I’m at as a surfer alone, so should everyone else.” But this is narrow, and false. I had the help, love and support of my parents and High School. It’s time I start giving back. Whether it’s shaping boards or getting those who aren’t as fortunate as me to be born and raised at the beach in the ocean and riding waves. More on this to come.
Thanks for reading,
Matthew