Yes, officer, as a matter of fact I was speeding, careening, wobbling, and basically flailing for every single turn down the Blue Ridge Parkway – at midnight – under a full moon – trying carveboarding for the first time.

It may look easy; it may not even seem that fast to you. But I’ll promise you this: it’s harder than it looks.

And fun!

My own little motivational poster to remind me of what I saw at first light yesterday morning. Good times!

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I happened to be in Washington, D.C. for the Online News Association 2010 conference when the Rally to Restore Sanity took place. Needless to say, I took a little walk down to the National Mall to see what all the fuss was about. There wasn’t much fuss, just a few hundred thousand people blowing mainly positive steam on a beautiful fall day in the nation’s capital. I’m neither a Democrat or a Republican, but I do need satire and sarcasm, and John Stewart and Stephen Colbert certainly fit the bill.

I produced the above collage from a few pictures I took that day.

Growing up in Charleston, South Carolina, one would think I would have learned how to play golf. Family play. Friends play. Colleagues play. But I do not play. Not well anyway.

After graduating from Clemson University, I made my way out West. I peddled, paddled, climbed, hiked, and some times even crawled across all kinds of varying terrain, but never once did my trajectory meet a fairway.

Then came graduate school. I was studying business. And you know the saying, a lot of business gets done on the course. Fair enough. So I turned to a classmate who had actually competed in high school and was nothing short of a pro. He gave me some old clubs and took me under his wing….for an hour or two. At least I learned how to keep score and drive the cart.

Directly after obtaining my MBA, I took up a job in marketing and public relations. It wasn’t long after I had gotten over the initial discomfort of being in a new company that my boss  announced there would be an upcoming golf tournament where my participation was required. Yes!

The morning began bright and beautiful as I looked out across the well manicured fairways at Lakeridge golf course. My boss, Jennifer, and I were paired with Charles and Melissa. They worked at a creative agency in town. Charles was also the president of the local advertising association.

It is important to note that while I was at least dressed to be outside, the other three were costumed in outfits cut directly from a golf catalogue. But I didn’t feel awkward at all. Nope, not a bit.

I couldn’t keep it a secret. I had to tell them I was about as good at golf as someone with no arms. There was some light teasing. Charles said, “guess we’re not winning this year.” But overall everyone was quite charitable and offered to help me.

As the day progressed I began to feel pretty good. I was driving and putting well, and my in-between game was not all that bad either. I began to picture the new clubs I was going to buy. How impressed my school buddy was going to be when I surprisingly whipped him in an impromptu game.

When we got to the 18th hole I was already breathing a personal sigh of relief. No windows broken, golf carts flipped, or clubs sailing through the air. My integrity was more or less intact.

Everyone else had already hit when Charles handed me his 6 iron. I tried to apply all of the tactics he had taught me throughout the day, but the ball fell short and wide. Charles said, “Try again, but this time look down at the ball until you have completed your swing.” Ok, I said, and he dropped another ball at my feet.

I swung the club, and as I looked up it appeared as if all the air molecules around Lakeridge were conspiring against me. The ball arced far to the left.
Just beyond the ball I could see my boss and Melissa laughing together, enjoying the end of a good day as they casually made their way to the hole.

In the grips of total and complete terror I expected the ball to hit my boss. It did not. Instead, I dropped Melissa like a gazelle on the African plains.

I ran to Melissa like a man possessed. Practically straddling her, I shrieked, Are you okay? Are you okay!?!

Due to the fact that I hit Melissa directly behind her right ear, she did end up getting a Cat Scan. Fortunately she turned out to be okay. Of course, and rightfully so, she never let me live it down and teased me about it whenever I saw her. I was mortified when it happened, and I still cringe when I think about it today.

Directly after the incident I sent Melissa flowers and a note that said:

What a great day of golf and play until my ball went astray.

I kept my job. I even went on to play in another golf tournament. But golf is not my game.

Tropical Storm Colin didn’t turn out to be what many Florida surfers wanted, but for early August when waves are typically nonexistent, who can complain about head high, glassy waves with offshore winds? This narcissistic pic is from Saturday morning. It got bigger and better throughout the day.

We are entering the peak season for hurricanes in the Atlantic. Let’s see what the next couple of months bring…

I post this image of some guys working a Banshee Bungee at Lori Wilson Park in Cocoa Beach, Florida, not so much because it is a fun photo, but because of what a stranger came up to me on the beach and said after I took it. He joked,  “Most folks would think it is pretty crazy to launch yourself in to the air on a skim board with a bungee cord, but I want to shake the guy’s hand who decided it was safe enough to get in their way and take some photos.” Ha! I turned 36 this weekend. Guess I still haven’t learned.

On Saturday I fueled up my far-from-fuel-efficient SUV and burned my way out to Upham Beach for the Hands Across the Sand demonstration against offshore oil drilling. I’d never been to Upham, but my Droid’s operating software navigated the asphalt-covered roads flawlessly. It was already a scorcher by 10:30am, so I ran the car’s AC while generously applying sunscreen. I grew thirsty, but fortunately I brought my plastic water bottle, and I tipped it to my lips before striking out to the beautiful white beach and shimmering blue water that millions of tourists travel to Florida every year to see.

The Suncoast Chapter of Surfrider Foundation had their tent out, so I stopped in to sign the petition, peruse their marketing material, and find out when we would be lining up and joining hands.  I was a bit early, so I headed out for a swim. I thought, what the hell am I doing here? From the looks of it, a number of Gulf Coast surfers had driven over to the East Coast to take advantage of some rare summer swell. Why hadn’t I done the same? This little demonstration isn’t going to achieve a single thing. And regardless, we’re all hypocrites.

As I swam, I observed large numbers of fish around me and a Snook prowled the shallows. Lately there have been reports from Louisiana to Florida of large populations of dolphin, sharks, and fish closer to shore. In-shore anglers are catching species normally only seen in deeper waters. It is widely believed that these fish are swimming away from the oil in the Gulf.

I could see more people gathering around the Surfrider tent. Just as I was coming out of the water a man walked down to the shore bearing a black sign with white words clearly stating, “No Offshore Drilling.” Brave, I thought, or naive. Doesn’t he know how much oil and petroleum products he consumes in one day, let alone a lifetime? More people followed, and eventually there were 150 individuals lined up along the beach. I overheard a man in the water with his wife say,

“This is the f#$% stupidest thing I have ever seen.”

That is when I got in line and joined hands with them.

Turns out another 500 lined up on the beach next to us, another 200 just south of them, and so on and so on. Thousands of people across Florida, from Pensacola to Naples and Key West to Jacksonville, participated in the event. I don’t know what it achieved, but I was there. Maybe some awareness in those that have never thought about how much oil we consume? Or how offshore drilling is actually conducted? Or how we might possibly discover an alternative solution to our oil addiction?

I think for many people it was just a way to do something, anything, with their frustration. Disappointment over the environmental and economic catastrophe that still looms large. The corners BP has cut. The embedded oligarchy. The corrupt and inept MMS and Department of Interior. The continuing commitment to offshore drilling. The fact that, right now and in the foreseeable future, we need oil.

I participated in Hands Across the Sand because I believe in human innovation and our ability to come up with a better solution - IF IT IS A PRIORITY. Changes to minimum fuel standards, for all new cars manufactured in America, came about only because of the alignment of several key factors: a new president, a dramatic spike in fuel costs, and changes in consumer demand. Clearly, it takes a veritable perfect storm to incite change in American government.

The Gulf Oil Spill will be a catalyst for change. We’ll see improvements in offshore drilling practices, and the ways it is regulated. But what else?

Hands Across the Sand came on the tail end of an interesting week in the news. People were anxiously lining up outside of Apple stores for the new iPhone. I love technology as much as the next guy/girl, but I couldn’t help but think what a waste of time it all was. What these seemingly educated people could better use their time doing. It made me think about the Conan O’brien and Louis CK clip, “Everything’s Amazing, Nobody’s Happy.” [Watch It Now] It is a funny bit that attempts to convey the message of not taking things, especially technology, for granted. But as popular as it has been, I think the message is skewed.

Phones, internet, even travel, are not necessarily indicators of happiness. The technology and human innovation involved is amazing; but so were stone tools, wheels, ships, guns, cars, and rockets to the moon.

Now we consume and throw away more than we ever have – the planet is hot and crowded – and people sit in long lines for iPhones.

Technology is great, but how it is applied is what makes it truly wonderful. I sincerely hope for my son’s sake that we are innovative enough, and capable enough, of keeping a tight grasp on the right priorities to manage this planet going forward.

Finally, in September of last year Hurricane Ike came through, and I really did get to experience good waves on the Gulf Coast (GC). But other than that, and some more squinting, it has been a lot of trips back and forth to Cocoa Beach and further south to Sebastian Inlet.

The angst builds in GC surfers in the Fall. The promise of hurricanes has every one on edge, hoping for some deviation in the otherwise flat landscape. When Hurricane Ida began to blossom, so did our hopes for good surfing. Unfortunately, it turned out to be overhyped and undersized. But seeing as how I am a GC surfer now, well, it was swell worth riding nonetheless.

While I was waiting for the tide to turn and come back in, I walked out on the beach and captured some footage. I am not endowed with a big video camera, so I no doubt looked rather silly mounting my little Canon DV on a tripod. At one point an older snowbird walked by and stopped, stared, and then pointed and remarked, “look at that little camera.” Hey buddy, I said, it’s not the size of the swell, but the motion of the ocean. He just laughed, stared, and pointed some more at my little camera shooting little waves.

Either way, you’ve got to give it up to these scrappy GC boys making the most of it.

Angst-like music is courtesy of Zeptepi.

There are few things in life better than an early morning surf session.

A dog is a dog, and a bad one isn’t worth spit; but you get a good one and they’re like a member of the family.

About a year ago I lost one of the best dogs a person could ever have. He died of cancer on my birthday during a trip to the North Carolina mountains. My wife and I had him cremated, and his ashes have sat in Tampa, Florida since that time.

Florida is not a befitting location, however, for he was born and always has been a mountain dog. Last week we returned to the Fall air and decorated mountains of North Carolina to spend time with good friends from Charleston, South Carolina. We brought the ashes with us for the sole purpose of returning him to his proper place.

The headwaters of the Chattooga River have long been a place of solace for my family, and it was here that we decided to say our final goodbyes. The ashes were released to the river and swirled around in a fast moving eddy until they slowly dissipated and eventually disappeared. I pictured him filling up pot holes and bouncing over pebbles as he flowed swiftly downstream. My hope is that he made it all the way to Section 4 before finally succumbing to a sandbank.

This kind of heady stuff gets one thinking about how they’d like to go. A settled grave or a more mobile mausoleum? Hopefully we have a long while to think about that question. Until then, the picture above was taken as a reminder of that Fall day we poured out his ashes.