Flag inflation at the beaches

When I was in school, which was not only in the last century but in

the first third of the last century, the best you could do was

straight A’s. At a certain point, this changed into numbers. The best

you could do was a 4.0. Either way, it meant your academic record was

perfect. Now, I understand, you can do better than a 4.0. How this is

achieved I do not know, but assume it is along the lines of the 110%

effort. It’s an inflation.

Which brings me, in a roundabout way, to my topic. In the good old

days, say the 1950s, ‘60s and ‘70s, there was the same flag system at

the beach as there is today. I am not speaking of the blackball. I’m

not sure when that came in. I mean the green, yellow and red flags

that are a quick indicator of the water conditions.

In those days of which I speak, the flags were an easy-to-read

surf report. Green flag meant everything from an ocean that resembled

a giant pond to decent surf. Yellow flag meant it had size -- at

least 6 feet, usually bigger -- and you’d better know what you were

doing. Red flag meant it was a huge day and nobody but the best

surfers were allowed in the water, and sometimes not even them. The

beach -- meaning the water -- could be closed at the discretion of

the lifeguard. Of course, the lifeguard who did this had to listen to

all the regulars whining for him to open the place up.

I, being a lofty jurist, felt it was beneath my dignity to whine,

so I would send my daughter or one of the other beach urchins to do

the whining. They would stand under the tower and badger the guard

unmercifully until he finally realized that not only was he

outnumbered, they were determined to outlast him, and he’d give in. I

remember once I was so excited when the water opened that I ran in

the water wearing a new pair of sunglasses that promptly disappeared.

Because the categories were so clear, there was a real thrill when

you saw a yellow or red flag. You knew it was going to be a good day.

Well, just like grades, something’s happened to the flags. From

what I can gather, a green flag today means that there is absolutely

no surf and your Aunt Fanny from Dubuque can splash around in there

as much as she wants and her only risk is a sunburn. If a wave that’s

more than knee high comes in, the guard puts up the yellow flag, and

if there’s actually surf, the red flag screams danger.

I guess it’s understandable. In the old days, the water wasn’t so

crowded, and the ratio of skilled to nonskilled in the water was

probably 7 to 3. That meant the guard didn’t have to watch the bulk

of the people, and the numbers of the others were small enough so he

could keep an eye on them pretty easily. Now there are a lot more

people in the water, and that ratio is reversed. Most of the people

coming to our beaches know nothing about the surf, and if you don’t

know anything, then a knee-high wave can be a problem.

Still, it’s a disappointment to get down to the beach, see the

yellow flag flying, have that moment of excitement and then see the

actual non-surf condition.

I don’t mean to imply that I am still surfing in yellow and red

flag conditions. I am afraid at 91, I am a lot like Aunt Fanny, more

of a splasher than anything else, so green flag is just fine for me.

If I go to the beach today, my big feat is not going in the water.

It’s getting back up the hill so I can go home.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge.

His column runs Tuesdays.