The Sport of Life -- James Pibram

James Pibram

To say I love summer would be an under statement, I live for it.

Ever since I was a little kid growing up on the beach down at Pearl

Street. Summer has always meant everything to me.

I remember every morning lying on my parent’s deck (that overlooked

the beach) just waiting for the lifeguard to show up so I could go in

the water. I would spend hours down there, until the moment my mom would

ring that horrible sounding cow bell for me, signifying that it was time

to come home. Clank, clank, clank. I used to hate the sound of that bell.

But I would give anything to relive just one of those day’s again.

Cheese flavored Doritos and ice cream sandwiches, puts a smile on my

face just thinking of those days. We had it made. Myself, Mike Ensch and

Matt O’Hara, we were inseparable. The three stooges of Pearl Street

beach, we were always getting into trouble. Actually in the early, early

days, I was a good kid and the lifeguards were my idols. It wasn’t until

I was little bit older, say around 10, that I had as much fun tormenting

the lifeguards as I did hanging out with them.

We were ruthless and the lifeguards were our main targets. They would

have to sit there in their tower, just below my parents house (like

sitting ducks), just waiting to get ambushed -- with ice plant, pee

bombs, you name it; we were brutal.

But they were are friends as well. My mom would make them hot

chocolate -- on the rare cold days -- and sandwiches, and in return the

lifeguards always took good care of me, which meant a lot to my mom. She

always knew I was in good hands and safe on that beach.

One lifeguard however, was just a monster in comparison to the others

and I loved him as a kid growing up. Hard Ball was the nickname he went

by, and for good reason . . . he was gnarly. Big. Mean and more ruthless

than the three stooges put together. But so much fun to mess around with,

like a big bear always chasing you. He was the type of person you never

wanted to let down. He meant a lot -- like a father figure -- to me.

It’s funny thinking of those days and how lucky I was to grow up on

that beach. The memories that I hold and the friends that I have made, it

really makes me think -- out of all the places in the world, I couldn’t

think of a better place to grow up than here in Laguna Beach.

Peace.

* James Pibram writes about the sport of life in Laguna for the

Coastline Pilot. He can be reached at P.O. Box 248, Laguna Beach CA,

92652.