Imagine waking up on a September morning after a fitful night of sleep.  It is just after sunrise, the air is cool, but warming quickly with the sunshine and there are only two lazy clouds floating in the blue sky.  You hop on your beach cruiser and ride a few blocks to check the waves, a warm cup of coffee in your hand as you jaunt casually down the street.  Along the way you see one of your buddies who has rustled himself early too, his smile sheepish and excited.  

It is just as you had hoped.  The projected south swell you knew was coming because of Magicseaweed is cranking away.  The long period walls are compliments of a hurricane spinning well offshore.  The winds are out of the west and the ocean is glass.  This is what East Coast surfers live for.    

Your first inclination is to gulp the last sip of your java as you bolt back home to grab your favorite board.  This cannot happen fast enough.  The birds are singing, the summer crowds have gone back to their urban haunts, and you could not feel happier.   

Worth a Few Minutes of Your Time?

Except, there is one small problem.  The oil spill caused by recent drilling off of the eastern seaboard is a natural disaster of major proportions.  As a surfer you can do little but volunteer to clean crude oil from the dying seagulls.  The dead fish along the shoreline merely remind you that the perfect waves breaking off of the jetties are now off-limits. 


You are overcome with sadness as you stand there with your friend.  You are rendered helpless, a silent observer with no words or actions to reverse the events that have so badly spoiled the beach that you love. This spill is even worse than the one that took place in the Gulf of Mexico in 2010.    

You would never admit this now as you somberly watch a gull blackened with a sickening sheen struggle to fight the pull of the undertow; but you did nothing when you had the chance.  You chose to sit quietly by as your local politicians planned to drill.  Sure, you read some stupid blog and even considered joining Surfrider, but “you did not have the time.”  You came close to emailing your Governor, but something “important” came up.     

As your friend, with tears in his eyes, bemoans his wish to surf one of the perfect peeling rights, you stay quiet once again.  You could never share now that you did not express your opinions to the Federal Government, to your Senator or your Congressman when you had the chance. Afterall, you are just one surfer and what difference would that have made right?


  1. phossyHow says:

    Just want to say what a great blog you got here!
    I’ve been around for quite a lot of time, but finally decided to show my appreciation of your work!

    Thumbs up, and keep it going!


  2. Jerseyfresh says:

    This post-modern piece gave me the chills. The same kind the two surfers in the piece probably had.

  3. nykook says:

    good one, ban all drilling!

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