YOUNG DUDE HOMIES

6-6-07
By Corky Carroll

I was going through a number of emails this morning thinking I would run another installment of my continuing series “Growing up Orange County.”  This is where you, the most amazing and tasteful readers on the planet, send in your very own stories about having grown up here in wonderland.  But then I started thinking about my own young boy days growing up here and of all my friends in the neighborhood.  I have no idea what has become of most of them but I thought it would be fun to give my own rundown of the lineup in my hood when I was a kid. 

I grew up in tiny Surfside Colony. At the time there were probably less than one hundred houses there and only about thirty percent of those were occupied on a full time basis.  The rest were summer homes or vacation rentals.  But we had a “loosely” tight knit group of kids there and a little social scene.

There was Larry Conroy.  He was the hot surfer who went to Hawaii.  His board was the first one I ever rode, other than one experience with a decayed old redwood plank that Danny Gillis and I found buried in his backyard.  Larry had a good sense of humor and also an old green pickup truck that was the first vehicle I ever drove and ran into another car.  I should add that Larry had not given me permission to either drive his truck or ride his board. 

Then there were the Rowe brothers, Ron and Steve.  They both had “Woody” station wagons and were good surfers.  Steve had a really bad ear infection one time and had to wear a woman's bathing cap surfing for a really long time. I think it had a long lasting effect on his self-esteem.  He also had a pet frog that he kept in a box above his bed.  The problem was that the frog kept jumping out of the box and into his bed.  So one night he tied a string around it's neck to keep it in the box.  When he woke up in the morning the poor little frog had hung himself.  Steve was never the same. 

The DcCheveroux brothers lived at the south end of the street right by the water tower.  Mike, Marc and Morgon.  We used to ride those blue and green air mats together when we were really young.  We also used to put my record player on their deck over the ocean so we could surf to music.  Problem was the sun melted those old vinyl records we never made it into the line up in time to catch any songs before the 45 rpms's turned to goo. 

Jerry Motes was older than me and had the claim to having surfed at San Onofre with Candy Calhoun.

Joe Johnson was a cool dude who also had a hot sister, Betty.  I don't remember too much about Joe except that he had an old hydroplane boat with no engine that he tried to sell me one time.  What I was going to do with it I have no idea.  But my dad said no.

One of my best pals was John Kroening.  We used to beat each other up a lot.  Who knows why, we were kids and could.  We were in the same grade.

Danny Gillis was actually from Los Angeles.  But he spent the summers at Surfside and was a pal of mine. We spent a lot of time playing army on the beach and he was also a member of the blue and green canvas air mat patrol. 

Glenn Karash moved in about the beginning of High School.  He and I used to play guitars together and he had a hot cousin named Dede that I had little romance with.

That was pretty much the brat pack in my neighborhood.

I asked my wonder-son Tanner to tell me about his pals.  He is ten years old.  Here is what he wrote down.

“A few of my friends are Christian Callahan, Tanner Kollenda, Jake Rushton, Andrew Beck, Brandon Isgro and Matt Torreto

Christian Callahan is funny and really good at soccer. Tanner Kollenda is cool and he is good at wrestling. Jake Rushton is very funny and is good at football.  Andrew Beck is funny and is good at soccer. Brandon Isgro is extremely funny and can play guitar and his birthday is today and I did not get him a gift so I was wondering if you have an extra surfboard and if you can sign it.  He is also really good at drums and can lift up his Trampoline.  Matt Torreto is funny and is very good at baseball.  Tanner Carroll is funny and is a son of a legendary surfer.” (That part melted me).

We all have “names” and memories of our friends from when we were growing up and even if we never kept in touch with them they did have an impact on our lives and who we are, just has having grown up in Orange County impacted us in the same way.

 

 

Talking Trash at the Beach

The Wave ~ 6-6-07
By Corky Carroll

Everybody needs a collection. Some choose baseball cards, others opt for marbles, and my wonder-wife, the Muy Bonita Karlita, collects shoes and purses.  Imagine that.  I never collected anything, surely a stunt to my personal growth. So about two years ago I decided that I needed to collect something that identified who I am. There were plenty of choices out there, some more expensive habits than others. Vintage surfboards came to mind, but lots of avid dudes do that, and I didn't want my collection to be like anybody else's.  Besides I couldn't afford that, those things cost way, way, far way too much for my tender budget.  Swimming trunks? Nah, too mundane and ordinary.  Unique farm animals? While the idea was momentarily appealing, you can't hang them on the wall and if the Muy Bonita Karlita found the collection in our closet, she'd kill me on the spot. And, my pal the Iguana already has that one going. I thought and thought and thought. It had to be special. It had to be unique. It had to be ME.

One early morning I was heading down to the waves and I saw something lying in the sand. It was one of those cheapo watches sold on "Clearance" for $7.00.just before Christmas. I certainly didn't need it, pink not being my color, but I picked it up anyway and brought it home. I dropped it into the "stuff" coffee can where every small item that doesn't have a particular place goes. It joined a string of paperclips that I'd also found in almost the same place, but months before; wondering at the time how they came to land on a beach in Orange County. Come to think of it, there was also a black and white stone with the initials J.W. in the coffee can, yet another diamond in the sand. It suddenly hit me -- I already HAD my collection. I had a coffee can loaded with Beach Trash.

It's been more than two years now, and I confess that I've taken to actively looking for abandoned sand treasures. My newfound hobby does not require that I pick up the item; sometimes the thought processes alone are worth the effort. For example, one morning, just after dawn, I noticed a patch of red about 100 feet down the beach. When I investigated further, I found that it was a pair of red silk panties. Wisely I left them right there for the next lucky collector to stumble upon, realizing that saying "Oh, I found those on the beach" would never fly with my beautiful wife. I couldn't help but wonder, though, who left them there, and what the story was. Did they fall out of a beach bag? If so, who brings an extra pair of panties to the beach ... and why? Or did they ... oh, never mind.

My coffee can finally filled up, so I stashed it in the back of a cabinet and started a second coffee can. I've just gotten to can #7, and the cabinet is nearly full. In all, I have enough feathers to build half of a bird, a seashell with a natural face appearing on it -- probably good for some serious E-Bay bucks, an unopened package that probably contains a florescent latex item of the birth control variety, a brand new size 8 Nike sneaker, a 14 ct gold daisy earring, and my absolute favorite -- a sheet of paper that looks like it came out of a small diary. The corners were shriveled, but the writing is precise, neat and readable……

"7-31-2006: Only one day left before I have to leave this beautiful place. It's depressing to think of returning to the real world. Studying. Tests. Cafeteria food..Bob went to get a fifth of tequila. He's spent the whole week drinking. I've spent the week reading and vegging and watching the surfers. Someday I would love to learn how to do that. I can still dream, can't I?” 

Speaking of dreaming, I've got another contest for you. Another prize.  Send me the details on YOUR unique collection. I've got Beach Trash. What do YOU have? The best answers -- I am the judge and jury -- will be printed, and my favorite response will win something of which I haven't figured out yet.