There’s a joke about a rich man who dies and goes to heaven, only to find that his celestial home is made of inferior materials and only partially completed. When he asks about the apparent oversight, he is told, “We could only build with what you sent up.”
After 63 years as a surfer, I am witnessing an increasing number of friends I once paddled out next to being paddled out by friends and family in ziplock bags. Their ashes are scattered, kind words are said, and prayers are offered.
While I am a man of faith, I nonetheless have no clue whether the deceased are watching from the great beyond as we celebrate their lives, or if they are deaf to our praises.
Last Thursday, surfing legend David Nuuhiwa called to say that some close friends were doing a paddle out for Hawaiian-born surf legend Paul Strauch. David mentioned that it was Strauch who had first set him on the path of being a lifelong surfer.
Other surfers, like Gerry Lopez and Barry Kanaiaupuni, might say the same about Strauch, and maybe add that Paul was the best surfer of his generation. So, what kept me from saying yes to Nuuhiwa’s invitation? Perhaps it was the anticipation of my own ashes being scattered in the waves. The bell tolls for thee, bro.
I should be used to it after celebrating the spectacular lives of surfing greats Rell Sunn, Donald Takayama, Dale Dobson, Mike Hynson, Woody Ekstrom, Rabbit Kekai, “Quiet” Mike Romero, Joy Froding, Kenny Mann, Larry Gordon, Jay Adams, Mike Doyle, Don Hansen, Mike Eaton, Hank Byzak and Wally Blodgett. I could go on, but to list all of our dearly departed would require more than my allotted words for this column.
Several months ago, I was seated in the Seaside Reef parking lot near Jimmy and Hana Scott. We were discussing a mutual friend’s passing when we simultaneously hit upon a novel idea. Why do we wait until our friends have passed to say nice things about them? What if we celebrated their lives, not just the day of their birth, while they were still with us? I wish I had done that for Hansen, Takayama, Adams and other members of our beach family.
Then again, having a paddle out for a living friend might be a bit creepy, like attending your own funeral. Okay, so never mind the formalities. But what if we simply told our friends what they mean to us? What if we thanked them for rides to the beaches, waves given, lunches shared and good conversation? What if we complimented them on their new boards and the way they rode them? What if we told them we appreciate them, and even went so far as to say we loved them? Why are such words so difficult to say in this era of mudslinging and verbal brutality?
I’ve been far too stingy with my compliments and far too generous with my criticisms. Let’s celebrate each other while we are still operating in the present tense.
Richard “Rocco” Emma was a kind gentleman, a veteran, a boxer and a surfer whose company I enjoyed. After surfing, he often spent his afternoons quietly cleaning trash from the sands of Cardiff Reef. Rocco is being buried with honors at Miramar National Cemetery.
