Not all surf sessions are created equal. In fact, they are profoundly unequal. Unlike a tennis court, the ocean is never the same twice — you can’t just show up and play. The surf is dependent upon a near-infinite number of variables that are constantly changing. Some days you may feel like you’re born for it. Others make you feel like you’ve wasted your day to look like an idiot.
I certainly took some lumps in the last year, but they were all worth it for the forgiving summer waves. This summer brought remarkably warm, clean water, and gentle breezes. The vast majority of the season required no wetsuit at all.
While some like the angry monster waves the cold water and hurricanes bring, others enjoy the friendlier summer waves — and we had plenty this summer.
In August, my oldest son arrived at dusk after a brutally long drive from Virginia Beach on a relentlessly rainy day. The rain finally stopped as he pulled up to the house. After greetings, we took the half-block walk down to the bulkhead by the bay.
The miserly clouds would not let even a hint of sun peek through. Still the bay water was eerily smooth and calm.
“It’s awfully glassy,” my son said.
“Yep.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Of course I was. The waves were most always nice after a storm and we would have the surf all to ourselves.
My wife graciously excused us as we raced to load our boards into his truck. We hit the surf by the jetty at Eighth Street within minutes. We feasted on gentle rolling giants that appeared just south of the jetty. A young man from the surf shop had his girlfriend on the front of a longboard. Even with her upfront, he zipped around effortlessly.
Ominous clouds admitted lightning from the distance. A lifeguard came by in a jeep and whistled everyone out. After he left, we lingered on the beach, talking for a bit. A young couple came up with surfboards. We told them we were whistled out, and they shrugged and paddled out just the same. That was enough for us. We followed them back in. Although the sun had already set, a slight crease of blue sky opened in the west above the horizon and the sunset’s afterglow lingered for quite a while as it does in July. We stayed out till we were exhausted. We crossed the boardwalk to get back to the truck in the dark.
But that wasn’t the best session.
The very best session of the summer of 2025 came on a late August morning.
The Heart of Surfing trailer pulled up to 57th Street beach, stuffed with foam boards, before 9 a.m. People gathered around to unload like old friends and family on Thanksgiving. A good family takes in people on Thanksgiving. And Heart of Surfing is that good family. They treat you like one of their own no matter how long you have been with them.
Just what is the Heart of Surfing? It’s best described like this: Some ordinary people were struck with tragedy when their special needs son died. Instead of folding, they honored him by introducing others in similar situations to what their son loved: the waves.
The lifeguard chief, Erich Becker, pulled up with a pickup truck, and the boards were loaded and brought to the beach, along with the Heart of Surfing tent, life preservers, sunscreen, water, and a dozen other things to start the day.
Conditions were perfect, so instructors with the first students hit the waves immediately.
I had four surfing students that day.
The first was eight-year-old Bryce, who liked talking even more than surfing. Out on the gentle waves he gave me a long monologue about all the family secrets. After a while I told him we were not here to just float and we should get to work. He was more than thrilled to be taken out to the sandbar with the “big boys.” It was his first time on a board, but he picked it up quickly and was soon riding the waves confidently. He was proud to take the moniker “Gromet” when he excitedly bragged to his father on the shore.
Next was Jake, a regular. He just needed somebody with him to give him little pushes and encouragement.
My third student was Nathan, the highlight of the day. He was a tall, wiry, 19-year-old with an infectious smile. His mother told me he had never stood up, although he had been here several times. She also said he may not get in the water. He was hesitant at first, but after a bit of cajoling, he was on the board. Once in the water, he loved being pushed to shore. After what seemed like a large number of waves, I got him to kneel on the board while riding the waves. He was ecstatic at the accomplishment.
The pair of young women on the beach cheering didn’t hurt. I thought it was only a matter of time before he was standing. I just had to get him to take that final leap of faith that accompanies a first ride. But I was in the water for over two hours now and my calves started to cramp up.
A veteran surf instructor, Pete, took over. He told Nathan’s mother that we would get him standing today. Pete took Nathan out to the sandbar on a thick Mick Fanning foam board. Nathan was on the front of the board and Pete was on the back, where he was able to hoist Nathan up to his feet for a long, rolling glorious ride to the shore. As they reached the shallows he hopped off to allow Nathan to finish the ride on his own.
Nathan was filled with joy. When he reached the beach, he ran to the pair of young cheerleaders and high-fived them. He followed with hugs and a celebratory dance. Finally, he drew them in for a group hug. They laughed and clapped for him.
The life preserver he was wearing contained a whistle on a string. He took out the whistle and played a zany, marching tune like a pro as he ran up and down the beach celebrating. I wasn’t the only one with a lump in my throat.
Finally, my day ended with Olivia, a lightweight natural who took right to it.
After the final session was whistled out, we all enjoyed well-earned hoagies, pizza and other treats donated by local business people as we swapped stories on the beach.
The chief pulled the truck round again and we loaded up for next time.
Vincent Malfitano is the author of the novel ,Ocean City New Jersey, America’s Greatest Family Resort, A Crime Novel.
