When Was Your PICKLE Moment?

I turned from a cucumber to a pickle in the 5th grade. 

I can remember the exact moment..... Please let me explain.

 I grew up in inland New Jersey in the late 70's and early 80's. No ocean, no sand between the toes, no Surfing USA. I couldn't have been further removed from surf culture or surfing. Didn't even know that surfing existed. A normal summer day for me and my neighborhood friends would largely consist of stick ball, sneaking into the city pool, or throwing rocks at the commuter trains when they would pass over the trestle at the end of our street in hopes that the transit authority cops would show up and chase us.  My Dad was a plumbing parts salesman and my Mom a secretary for a shipping company in the Port of Newark. To say we were a typical Jersey family would be an understatement on a grand scale. The bohemian surf family we were not. It was my life, I didn't know of any other. I was just like every other cucumber out there. Living in a black and white world.

Enter the "cool" Uncle. Uncle "Woo". Circa 1983. 5th grade.

  He was my Mom's younger brother. His real name was Walter. He popped up like an exotic flower in my dirt lot of a Jersey life. He was different. He didn't do Jersey things. He was not a JOEY BAG of DONUTS like us. He had long hair, he could do 100 yard wheelies on his dirt bike, and he just moved back to Jersey from somewhere called California. He was living at my Grandparents house across town from me. Admittedly, he largely ignored me and my friends. Regardless, I worshiped his existence and wanted to be different...like him. I would copy everything he did. He eventually picked up on the fact that I was in awe of him and starting talking to me (Or my tough Irish Catholic Mom made him,  i'm still not sure).  He could say anything and I would be all ears, hanging on every word like it was gospel. Mostly he spoke of California and something called Surfing. I had know idea what Surfing was, couldn't even picture it in my head. Didn't matter, I was hanging with my idol. I would often drive my bike over to my Grandparents house and wait for him to wake up. Full stalker. I Couldn't get enough of the guy. One morning I made it over to my Grandparents house looking for him and asked my Grandfather if he was awake yet. He wasn't sure and told me to go up to his room and check. I knocked and heard nothing. I knocked again...nothing. I had never been in his room before and was terrified to open and check if he was in there. The last thing I wanted was for him to be annoyed with me.  I finally sacked up and slowly opened the door. Bummer. No Uncle Woo. He had taken off for the day already. I had missed him. But something in that room caught my attention big time. Every inch of his room was covered in surf magazine photos. I had only heard about it up until that point. I was like a deer in the headlights. The images that covered those walls were memorizing. This was the SURFING thing that he was talking about. I stayed and looked at every photo. I was there for hours. I couldn't get my head around what I was seeing. Surfing was like nothing I had ever seen in my landlocked Jersey existence.   I had to know more. When Uncle Woo showed up later that day I was on him like white on rice about this whole Surfing thing. I needed some answers. He wound up giving me a surf mag that day just to shut me up and get me out of his hair. The very moment I got home that day, my room was tattooed with surfing images....just like my Uncle Woo's. Keep in mind I hadn't been to the ocean, or seen a surfboard except for in those images, but man did I love those images, that much I was sure of. But that was about to change. Unbeknownst to me my Uncle Woo had ordered a surfboard to be delivered from California. When it arrived my Uncle invited me to go down the shore and give it a try with him. I was on cloud nine. It was a blue twin fin with yellow fins. It looked like a space ship to me.  After getting the "ok" from my Mom, we were off to Long Branch in his orange VW Bug. I had been staring at those photos I put up on my walls for so long I assumed I was ready. I watched my Uncle surf for about an hour or so. I was so impressed. He finally came in and told me it was my turn. I remember being terrified wading out into the ocean and thinking how cold the water was. He swam me out there and pushed me into the white wash reforms. I never even got close to standing up. Needless to say I was bit deflated and hugely embarrassed in front of my Uncle. I couldn’t believe how hard it was. This was nothing like the photos. Hell, the water wasn’t even blue like in the photos. More like a tea brown color. He was really cool and told me I did a great job. I knew that I hadn't. He paddled back out and surfed some more, I sat on the beach in utter shame. Before leaving that day he coaxed me into giving it another try. I paddled back out with Uncle Woo.

Pickle Time.

After what seemed like a million wipe outs, fails and almost getting up, the Ocean Gods threw me a bone. 

Here is what I remember...

Being pushed into some white wash.... Hearing my Uncle Woo scream "UP” !!!!
Getting to one knee, then somehow getting up to both feet. I only rode for about 3 or 4 seconds on my feet then fell. But make no mistake, I was surfing. Those three or four seconds changed my life forever. I can remember every drop of water from that ride to this day.  I was blown away. Elevated. I felt something I didn't even know you could feel. Pure stoke! Surfing was magical to me. Stick ball would no longer cut it. Inland New Jersey would never cut it again. I was a surfer for life. Just like my Uncle Woo. Just like the guys in the photos on my walls.

Riding home that day my Uncle explained to me that once you experience that feeling of stoke, the high that only surfing can deliver, that you can never be the same.  He explained to me that everyone else (non-surfers) were cucumbers, and that we (surfers) were pickles...and that once you become a pickle you can never be a cucumber again. I was in the 5th grade and the analogy stuck like glue. I will never forget those magical few seconds in Long Branch with my Uncle Woo. I’ve been living in HD color ever since as a proud pickle. Just as stoked today at age 42 as I was that day in the 5th grade. 

Surfing is  the best life!

When and where were you pickled for life?