The Bug

Going skateboarding tonight with two very old friends. Both of these guys have until recently been off the old wood. Along came the bug.

Last Sunday we barbecued at my buddy’s house who has a pool in his backyard. Within minutes of us getting into the pool the games began.

“Dude, let’s do handstand front flips off the jacuzzi into the pool!”
“What? That’s sketchy.”
“Nah dude, peep.”

Hand stand front flip.

“Lame. That was a summersault! Do a handstand. Check it.”

And so on and so forth until everyone had completed up to par flips and jumped off of every wall and ledge surrounding the pool. Actually “Little Rod” bitched out on distance wall leap. But whatever. No punk points for him. What to do now?

Next game: find an old board and play skate into the pool. The bug’s juices were reaching that place in our brains were the funnest possible thing is skating. Of course we would skate somehow.

A good number of the friends around me are having kids and it is fun to watch these little guys and gals play. That is all they want. Play, play, play. Making up a game. Running. Gotta jump off that rock. Wrestle. Obviously, the demands of life change as we age but where does this impulse go? I’m not wondering so much about the desire to compete and accomplish something but the impulse to just charge around. I find the expression of this in very little. Few activities are free enough to contain this. When I got home from the barbecue my girl asked me how it was. I told her, “It was fun, we acted like little boys all day.” And because of that, I am going skating with two old friends tonight. Play, play, play.

DO YOURSELF A FAVOR:

Reminds me of Lavar McBride. Is that sacrilegious?