Hey there, welcome to The Original Surfers. This is a multi-part series we have going called “A Teen’s Surf Saga.”
This is Part 2 of the series. We suggest you read A Teen’s Surf Saga – Part 1 before Part 2.
Entry.
San Diego Beach Lottery
I’ll be the first to tell you. When I was born,
I won the lottery of life.
Beach Lottery
For starters, I was born in the United States of America. A lot of you may have won this one, also. You may not realize how fortunate you are. Having been to many “developing countries,” I’ve seen poverty. Real poverty. Gut-wrenching stuff.
I’ve been to orphanages where you want to bring all the kids home. But you can’t. You might have noticed the thousands of people trying to cross the border into America? Every day.
You and I don’t have to do that. We’re here because we were born here. We’re lucky.
My lottery starts when I was born.
My name’s Kaila. I’m 16. Happy.
My story starts in a little beach town in San Diego, California, USA. Where it’s all about the ocean and the beach. Surfing.
To give you an idea. Before I was born my mom – who’s a pretty good artist – painted a big mural on my bedroom wall above my crib.
The mural is a teddy bear, in a big overhead wave. Offshore winds. Blue sky. Sunny. Perfection.
Back to the lottery thingy. I could see the beach and surf from my crib. I know in real estate, I’m told, they call it a “white-water view.” More on white-water later.
You get the picture. Literally.
It’s a beach break view from our house. But still… I know. I’m blessed. I get it. I don’t take this lottery thing for granted.
At least I try not to. Admittedly, sometimes, it’s difficult not to. As I say again and again. I’m not perfect. But I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. Doesn’t take much to see that. Stevie Wonder can see it.
As long as I can remember, we’d be at the beach. In the water. My mom and dad would take turns surfing while the other one watched me and Waian. We grew up on the beach. That whole lottery. Winners.
First Things First
It was straight onto a surf board as soon as we could walk.
Not quite.
“Hold on,” Mom said.
Nope. It’s always something.
My mom said I couldn’t surf until I first learned how to swim.
Go figure.
Don’t get the idea we had a beach front house. This is California. We lived on the side of a hill. We could see the beach, it was just a walk down the hill. California hill living.
Our hill was too steep for a pool. None of our neighbors had pools. Unless you count the blow-up kiddie pool. We had on the narrow walkway around our house. Pool with a view. But not so good for learning how to swim.
The local YMCA has a policy that kids have to be six months old before they can go in the Y pool. The way I got this, exactly six months after I was born, I was in the Y pool. That might be telling.
A little.
Kids had to pass a swim test before they were allowed to swim by themselves in the deep end. The swim test was swimming 25 yards, up and back. Without touching the sides. Or the bottom, but I was even too small to reach the bottom in the shallow end.
We went to the pool a few times a week. So I quickly learned how to swim.
I was always a strong swimmer. Passing the swim test was a piece of cake. Walk inthe park. Only it was a pool.
At the time, they said I was the youngest one to pass the swim test at the Y. My record was short lived. Waian did it two months younger than I was.
Like I say, Waian owes all her athletic success to me. She’s always trying to catch up.
Although Mom was still reluctant, I had passed the swim test. I could surf!
Let’s go surfing now
Everybody’s learning how.
Surfin’ Safari Beach Boys