All was right with the world. It was a perfect summer day and I was walking wet-suited with good spring in my step across the sand, my 9′-4″ custom tucked under my arm. It was one of those rare occasions when Popham Beach was “going off,” serving up clean and glassy 3-5 footers.
As I approached the break and prepared to secure the leash to my right ankle, I encountered a couple of bright-eyed kids — 10 or 11ish maybe — who began peppering me with questions:
– “Can you really ride those standing up?” (Me: “Sometimes.”)
– “Will you fall out there?”  (“Most definitely. That’s how you learn.”)
– “Are you sponsored?” (“No.”)
– “Does that wetsuit keep you warm.” Â (“I may even get too hot out there today.’)
And so on….
They could barely contain their excitement and it took me back to my youth in the land-locked Lakes Region of New Hampshire when I would listen to Jan & Dean and The Beach Boys on AM radio and wonder about a lot of the same questions these kids were asking.
Then they asked, “How old are you, anyway?”
I grinned and replied, “How old do you think I am?” They stopped talking and began to studiously look me over from head to toe.
As they focused their answer, I confidently wondered whether their under-estimate of my 56 years would be by a factor of decades or mere years.  You see, I work-out a lot and while my regular routines of basketball, lacrosse, running, and surfing spring primarily from a motivation to have fun, I also like the fact that this daily activity offers a “two-fer” in the form of some occasional mist from the Fountain of Youth. Don’t get me wrong, it’s all relative.  I know that my regimen would likely make a Weekend Warrior cringe and an Ironman triathlete laugh in condescension. Anyway…
So, the kid looks me right in the eye and says, “60.”
All of a sudden it became a lot harder to bend over and fasten that velcro strap on the leash. Before I was good to go, those kids had moved on to some other vict…er…person.
Kids…Art Linkletter was right. School starts this week.  Onward, Malcolm Gauld