Starting to Look a lot Like Christmas

Each year it never fails, December 1st about 7 p.m. The phone rings, "Hello Mom", " No I don't think I'll be coming home this year for Christmas." It the same year after year. One would think that after 10 years of not coming home for Christmas they would stop asking. You see 11 years ago I moved to Los Angeles from the bitter cold of upper New York State. Not real sure of why I had moved here, was it my girlfriend now my wife? Was it the sun and fun of Los Angeles? Or was it the calling of my true nature, surfing? I like to think it was the surfing but don't tell my wife that.

It was November of 1990 and I just got into Los Angeles the night before. I was standing on the beach of El Porto about 5 p.m. There was a small 3 to 4 foot swell coming in and the sun was just starting to set and it was 70 out. What can one say? I just left 4 feet of snow and -2 temp. 3 days ago. It looked just like something out of a travel book. Something started to happen to me right then and right there. I need to be in the water. Hell I didn't need to be in the water, I needed to be surfing. I think right at that time I made a decision that would effect my life forever. I was going to learn how to surf.

The 1st 6 months I lived here, I did nothing but surf. 30 to 40 hours a week. I think I was pissing off the girl friend a little. I wasn't working, I wasn't doing anything but surfing. Then the harsh reality hit. I needed a job, I needed money.

What can I say, I had to given in. I got a job, married my girl, and bought a house. But I didn't stop surfing. It was running though my veins and the ocean just kept calling me. On top of that I was getting pretty good. I'd moved off of my friends 8'10 and was surfing on a 6"9. I was starting to travel up and down the coast and was starting to plan my first surf trip. That was 10 years ago and I've kept up the surfing which brings me back to my phone call. You see I try to explain to my mother, father, friends and everyone that calls the 1st week of December to ask me if I was coming home for Christmas. And their answer is always the same, Christmas without snow, that can't be called Christmas.

It's the same every year. I'll wake up at 7 a.m. Put in the Christmas turkey, grab my board and down to El Porto for a 2 hour session. Then back home for gifts,eats and drinks. That's what I call Christmas. But what I can't get over is that feeling I get when I'm standing on the beach December 25th and it's on it's way up to 80. There's always that 3 to 5 foot Christmas swell coming in from the north and I start my paddle out saying to myself, Man, this is the reason way I love Christmas in L.A. Happy Holidays.

By Kheley Ridlon

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