SURFIN' SAFARI SUMMER THREE - DAY FOURTEEN - August 8, 2021
SURFIN' SAFARI SUMMER THREE - DAY 14
“Too-roo-too-roo-too!”
“Too-roo-too-roo-too!
Like many Alzheimer’s outcomes, it is both a little endearing and a lotta tragic.
It happens just once in a while. Wes and I respond and we can only wonder what the neighbors think.
When Saint Mary Segura arrives Anna chimes up like a jungle bird. Mary responds in kind.
“Too-roo-too-roo-too-roo.”
Today she bathed Anna, washed and dyed her hair, took her for a walk and fed her twice. Did not ask her to do laundry, but there it sat, folded so well as to appear vacuum-packed.
She got the diaper on that Anna hit me with a few nights ago. If that sounds funny, it weren't; another painful lesson that, caregiver or not, there are certain things husbands JUST. DON'T. DO.
Took off for Marina del Rey, happy bird chirps in my ears. El Frutero was waiting with my fruit cocktail, which I consumed after an “intermittent” night-long fast.
You do that for brain health kiddies; a fact I learned the hard way.
Heading for shore, a Mexican clan was departing. One girl asked the fellow she was with “So how would you like to be?” And he said: “Como ese ‘Guey,’ soooolito con sus tabla.”
And it was ME whom he wanted to be like, “Alooone with his board.”
Glass half full; he is right. Half empty; the image misrepresents the whole yarn.
Both are correct (or can't be wrong), according to an umpteenth reading of Gary Zukav's “The Dancing Wu Li Masters,” which attempts to make quantum mechanics understandable for people who aren’t physicists (and fails miserably).
It is all about differing perspectives. About where you are sitting and how fast you are moving in relation to the object you are observing (and how fast IT is going).
It is also about the instruments we use to measure things; their imperfections, how they are altered by motion and temperature.
All of which is further mystified by different frames of reference. What is the Mexican's yardstick? What does he know of mine?
It was a delicious day; hot on the sand and cool in crystalline aqua. Caught 20 chest-high waves with good energy beachbound. Surfing the way I have always dreamed.
Don't know what it looks like from the perspective of the other, and don't care.
It is my perspective that is experienced and it is a kind of surfing particular to myself. For years I did this type of surfing poorly, but no more.
In our culture, we've a pat turning to the stories of those who excel at the thing we are to undertake, their success a byword, their path one to be followed.
As a guitar player, Jimmy Page has always blown me away. For years, I read about him, and wrestled as a novice teen with his “Led Zeppelin Complete,” and generally strove, it seems, to play like Jimmy Page.
Which is not how Jimmy Page did it. What fascinated him were the many new electronic pedals and boxes to alter the electric guitar's sound coming out in his time.
There was no map, no established “right” way to use these goo-gaws, because they were new.
He noodled with them, geeking out, tangled in cable until he was playing as an original, playing as Jimmy Page, because he knew people didn't care how the sound was made, only that it sounded good.
So make the thing your own by doing it the fun way; the joyous way you imagined before the instructor popped your bubble. Let the thing serve you and not the reverse.
Onlookers may not be sure of what I am up to out there, but they know it is wallopin' good fun.
My wife was literally pink with health upon return. Maria had avoided giving her a sedative all day and kept her constitution clean with fruit. An hour after she’d left, Anna was ingesting the drug with an ice cream sundae.
Once I drank the smoothie with her sedatives when it got switched up with mine. What can I say?
"Too-roo-too-roo-too-roooooo!"
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