THE NAUTICAL NEGRO

THE NAUTICAL NEGRO BOOK I In The Beginning I was born on November 17, 1964, in Port Chester New York. My parents named me Brian Keith James, but My Godfather Mr. Mel Logan, prophetically nicknamed me ‘Flipper’, although I'm sure at the time he had no Idea how much I would live up to the name. I'm the youngest of four children, and definitely the wiliest of the bunch. As far back as I can remember I’ve always been a little bit different from my brother and sisters, as well as the other kids on the block. Some people called me a little hyper as a kid, while others just called me plum crazy. I on the other hand just like to think of myself as different, or a little unique. One of the ways I was different, or unique was in my unyielding ‘love of the Sea’ or any kind of water. (Some people, including my mother may say I’m ‘obsessed’) I love everything about it; the way it looks, the way it smells, and especially the way it makes me feel when I'm around it, or in it. I could never get enough. The same holds true even to this day, maybe even more so: I love it. My infatuation with the water and the sea goes as far back as I can remember. As a young boy, all I wanted to do was learn how to swim. I can remember being no more than three or four years old, and trying my best to swim in the bathtub. If the tub had been just a little bit bigger, I would have actually been doing laps. I also remember very clearly the ass whoopins’ I'd get for filling up the tub, diving in head first, and completely drenching the bathroom. The truly mystifying and amazing part of my lifelong obsession with water is the fact that neither my mother nor my father knows how to swim. My oldest sister, Lisa, doesn’t even let the shower water get in her face. In addition to my tub diving I also have fond memories of playing ‘deep sea diver’ with my next-door neighbour Craig Dempson when we were about four or five. I had acquired two diving masks: I have no idea where they came from, all I do know is they gave two little black boys from the ghetto hours of endless pleasure, and definitely opened our imaginations and broadened our horizons. My mother has a tremendous fear of water, and it was because of her fear that I didn’t get to go to the Y. M. C. A. until I was seven years old, despite all my begging and pleading: but after persistent and never-ending harassment I wore her out, and she finally gave in and signed me up for lessons. That was the happiest day of my life, and one I’ll never forget! From Book II Manasquan As I've already said once I received my freedom papers, drivers license, I simply didn't know how to act, and began showing up at breaks all over The North East Coast. One of those breaks was indeed Manasquan. I was really getting bummed out and tiring of the crowds, as well as the same old scene out at Rockaway. Don’t get me wrong, I'll always love the Rock, but sometimes a person needs to strike out on his own and blaze a new trail. So out of the clear blue sky I strapped the board to the roof, packed up the Volvo, and headed south yet again. Only this time I was good to go solo. When I left Rockaway I had no set destination, Ashland, Belmar, Avon, I really didn’t know. I figured I'd play it by ear and feel and see where the road led me. My first stop was once again Belmar. Belmar's always a good place to start for several reasons. First of all it's the shortest ride off the parkway and second, you can sort of get your bearings in Belmar, stock up on any needed supplies for the days surf. Lastly, it's kind of centrally located, so you can decide weather you want to go north towards Ashland or south to Manasquan, or simply set-up shop right there in the middle of town. On this particular day I arrived and was greeted with a very disappointing knee high swell. It was the middle of summer, and there was no real forecast for waves, but I figured I'd get better than that. So I made the call to head south towards Manasquan. When I reached the Squan, I quickly realized my instincts led me in the right direction, because the jetty at Manasquan inlet just ten minutes south of Belmar was throwing up glassy waist to chest high lines, and this being a weekday, the line-up had a very manageable crowd. Stand¬ing on the bluff, and seeing the beautiful conditions before me put an in-stant smile on my face, and within a very short time I was leashed up and paddling out. There was a little bit of a wait in between sets, so I sat on my board and took the opportunity to familiarize myself with my surroundings. As I did my mind was filled with memories of me and Pep, and the good time we had out here ten years earlier. I couldn’t believe it had been that long, especially when I consider how much I bragged on the place. I also took the time to meet some of the locals at one of New Jerseys premiere breaks. I could see the now familiar looks on people’s faces when I first hit the line-up, but I was greeted warmly by most, and spent the day chatting it up between sets with a host of good folks.