The lure of great surfing conditions at Ala Moana produced a generation who understood that being there to ride those gracious waves required its own set of rules. They understood this not so much by conscious thought than by internalizing the experience of the vagaries of wind, tide and swell. A regular life of employment and relationships was a difficult fit with the fickle surf schedule. We put off growing up as long as possible. Life is what happened in the process.

If a surfer didn't work because he was always down at the beach waiting for the surf to come up, people who didn't understand called him a beach bum. That was fine as long as Mom and Dad fed and housed the bum. When, inevitably, the bum burned that bridge by not showing up for a family gathering because a set was picking up momentum down the line at Kaisers, getting creative quickly was mandatory. At some point an actual adult emerged, maintaining some position as a functioning member of society while simultaneously maintaining flexibility to pursue the surf on a full-time schedule.

Excerpt from Surf Is Where You Find It