Part 2 (sorry )

Miki, of course, was graceful as always on his even riding through this muck. What he seemed to teach is that you are ALWAYS on stage from the moment you hit the beach, so be aware and surf like a teacher not a pupil. And the millions of visual images of him just surfing. Wheew, to think he’s gone. Who didn’t take something from his style, his cut backs… and methods of getting waves for himself, then riding with more style than anyone else ever even considered necessary? Cheeks puffed, making it seem like this wave he was riding was just about the most important thing going on in the universe… greaser square cut hair while most everyone else is in white walls… always tan… prancing on the wave, on the beach, making us all kinda wish we were as handsome, as smooth, as knowledgeable, and with even an iota of his impeccable wave judgement. But I have often heard challenges of his social grace. Huh? Always the complete gentlemen, and not stingy with a complement either. One day I walk into the Malibu Inn and sit down with him for a burger. He goes, “Morey, they say you’re seven times as good as me.” (That would be the day!) Yet on the other hand, there’s the deal where you’ve met him by accident skiing, (I feel a bump, turn around and he’s there, like its totally accidental. Then as we’re talking, he’s circling so you have to keep turning to have him in his sights. Then there’s the rumors about him scamming. The only scam relationship I ever had with the man was with all of us having drinks at Virginia Macafe’s wedding in Laguna to which I’ve invited numberous surfers including Miki. And me brashly signing the tab with some fictitious name. Not him. Probably I was trying to impress the guy on how cool I was. (Youth!) Corky Carroll relates that when he was sick in the islands the only surfer who ever came to visit was Dora. But then every wave, if it’s lucky to travel so far, eventually starts turning white at the top then crumbles and vanishes. Yet it was only the sea and the wind doing its stuff. So I guess the same is true for us waves of mud. You’ll be in our dreams, Mr. Style. Tom Morey (or just Y)