It's Been Six Months

I figured at some point I would feel like writing this, but I still don't. I keep waiting for some angle, some perspective that will wrap this all up in a cute little bow that will somehow help make sense of everything. That hasn't happened, but I'm afraid I'll forget things while awaiting enlightenment.

Last summer, I'd get a call from Kris around 8 every morning. The conversation never deviated from the following:
K: You check it? [I lived right by the "surfing only" beach]
Me: Yes.
K: How is it?
Me: It sucks.
K: Really? How big is it?
Me: It's small.
K: Like, uh, unrideable small?
Me: Yes. But it's loggable.
K: So are ya gonna go out?
Me: Yeah.
K: Okay, well I'm gonna go check it anyway.
Me: Okay. Why do you always call me if you don't believe me?
K: Huh? I gotta go. I'm probably just going to go surf 30th street.
Me: Okay. Bye.

I'm sure that half of the island had a conversation like this with Kris every morning, too.

No matter how long I dilly-dallied before making it to the beach, Kris and I would always get there at the same time. This may or may not have been because he had probably already driven up and checked it and left three times before I got there, but I never asked because I really didn't want to know the truth.

He loved his Hurley 4/3, and he loved his waterproof camera. I remember one day, surfing with him and John, and there were huge schools of gray, nondescript fish everywhere. (I believe they were "bunker"-no offense if that is the official fish of NJ.) They basically looked like large sardines, without the silver. Kind of like the one type of fish that you wouldn't waste time taking pictures of. But not Kris, he was sooo excited to take pictures of those ugly fish. He probably would have made some kind of collage with those pictures this winter. And he would have been extremely excited about it. And he would have called everyone at random times to tell them about it.

I wish he'd call me for my bogus surf report.

(I think I got this pic from Brad G's fb.)