The Peripheral Sur

by Bart Key

  Looking back, it was clear that I enjoyed being with Sur from the moment we met. He had a pleasant aura about him and his penetrating blue eyes always met yours when he spoke to you. He had started letting his hair grow longer and complained that he needed to be in better shape. If that were true, I sure couldn’t tell. He was wiry and muscular with little body fat. The guy always smiled like life was good and laughed generously. Unquestionably, he was very bright and highly educated. He exuded confidence in everything he attempted. Sometimes he listened to you so attentively that you hoped you wouldn’t embarrass yourself by saying something stupid. But Sur never looked down on me or anyone else for that matter. I was kind of like that too. Though he never talked much about his Vietnam days, I could tell that the war had affected him a great deal. While he was extremely proud of his time in the army, he hated the war itself.

  As for me, I had never been interested in school and was at best an average student. In high school my attention was given to participating in sports. I lettered in both soccer and gymnastics but my passion was surfing. As for the war, I had always considered myself a peacenik and during my one year of college, had even participated in a protest march. So far at least, the draft had not caught up with me. When I became a surf bum, the war to me was out of sight, out of mind.

  Every time I went to Sur’s house, he was always trying to fix something. It was pretty obvious he had never worked with tools much and his inventory of tools was pretty limited as well. A couple of times I helped him with a project and showed him how to use some of his tools more effectively. Then one day on our way back from what turned out to be our last surf lesson, Sur asked me if I would be interested in helping him fix up his place. He would expect to pay me, of course. As I was pretty close to being broke at the time, I accepted. The next day I came over bringing my tools and together we made a list of the various materials and supplies we would need for what would be a major refurbishment of his place. I volunteered to provide my truck for hauling things and Sur agreed to pay for gas and maintenance expenses. After about a week, Sur queried whether it might make sense for me to just move into his spare bedroom until the work was completed. That made sense and besides, the rent was free.

  Our first priority was to enclose his carport so he could park his Corvette out of the elements. Both of us remember that time well as we were just completing the project when the news broke that an American astronaut was walking on the moon. After work that day, we drove to my favorite tavern which was packed with celebrants hoisting a few beers. We joined in.

  The next phase was to replace the home’s deteriorating exterior with a neutral-colored siding made of weather-resistant materials. Sur wanted to duplicate as nearly as possible the original rustic appearance of the house. At my recommendation, Sur hired one of my surf buddies to replace his leaking roof with one made of clay shingles. Sur and I then all but gutted the inside of the house and started over. Wooden fitted planks were used for the walls instead of plasterboard. Yet another one of my buddies installed Spanish tiles over all the floors. And another who was a qualified plumber helped the two of us enlarge and redo the bathroom which included removing the bathtub in order to make room for a large walk-in shower. We also installed a shower outdoors next to the back porch for rinsing off sand when returning from the beach.

  As we continued working together, Sur and I got into sort of a rhythm. Sur didn’t know much about using tools. But after I showed him how, he caught on amazingly quickly. Our work atmosphere was always relaxed and we kidded around a lot. Sur became used to my admittedly rank language but never really cussed much himself. When we stopped working for the day, we’d usually have a couple of beers while making dinner and crash early especially when we had plans to go surfing the next morning.

  Between working and surfing, neither of us had much time for any kind of outside social life which for me was pretty unusual. One day while surfing, one of my surf friends remarked that he hadn’t seen me around much lately. I told him about my new job and how it took up a lot of time at the moment. As for Sur, he didn’t seem to have any interest in an outside social life. From our conversations, I knew that he led a fairly active social life in college. At the moment though, all he seemed to care about was completing the work on his home and increasing his surfing skills. I kind of got the impression that he was also considering what came next after we completed his house.

  •

  Thanks to Jeremy, I had found what I now knew would be a lifelong love of surfing. Not only was it a great sport but also a kind a lifestyle, a calling or being one with the planet. Sometimes when you’re standing on your board in a wave, you experience pure unadulterated glee. Some called it subdued rapture. And here I was just a beginner. Watching Jeremy on his shortboard entering a wave, standing up and expertly cutting back toward the breaking part of the wave was beautiful. He was fearless when surfing and seemingly unconcerned about wiping out. When he did occasionally, he would blame himself for doing something incorrectly or not doing something better. Every time we went out, he would show me or explain to me something important like how to bail out safely in areas with rocky bottoms. The best part of my surfing experience was just being with him. Usually when we paddled out now we would pretty much stick together. Over the noise of the surf he would shout out something humorous and raunchy and I would just laugh. He was someone you just naturally enjoyed being with. He always seemed to know someone wherever we went and I was always introduced as his buddy.

  We had an unwritten rule that when the surf was up we would find time to hit it. Jeremy had an amazing network of fellow surfers who would call each other with news of good surf. Eventually, his surf pals began to treat me as one of them which I considered a high compliment. But I knew it also had much to do with the deep admiration they held for Jeremy. One thing I learned about surfing is that if you do it often, you get better. I was now at the level where I could milk waves for longer distance rides because I had improved my skills at cutting back.

  Somewhere along the way, Jeremy introduced me to the weed. When a group of us were surfing together, it was not all that unusual when we were on the beach for a joint to be passed around. Some guys partook and others passed. Getting stoned certainly was a new experience for me. While pot smoking in Vietnam was pervasive, I was way too busy commanding my platoon or being involved in planning operations to even think about indulging. In my new setting though, sharing a number was part of the culture. Jeremy swore that sex while stoned could be a wild ride.

  In addition to his surfing skills, Jeremy was also one hell of a carpenter. He was a measurement freak and I was always impressed at how exact he could cut wood and other materials. He mind worked in perfect sync with his body. When explaining something, his hand and body movements mimicked his verbal description. Just like when he taught me to surf, Jeremy had endless patience in showing me how to use tools and do various construction tasks. Except for surfing, Jeremy and I had little time for anything else except working on my house. Every now and then though, we would drop in for a beer at one of his watering holes or perhaps take in a movie. One flick we saw was “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”. For weeks after seeing it, one of us would look at the other and say “who are these guys?” Or “hell, the fall will probably kill ya.”

  Jeremy’s fearlessness was not exclusive to surfing. One time when the surf was flat and several of us were passing time in the sun on the beach, we witnessed a brawny surfer none of us knew threaten to kick the ass of a much younger surfer for hogging the good waves. Out of character for him, Jeremy was on the scene in an instant. He ran over to the guy, called him a douchebag and demanded that he apologize to the kid. The guy who was much bigger than Jeremy warned him to shut up and mind his own business or he’d kick his ass too. Jeremy laughed, looked the guy straight in the eye and made it clear that if he so much as lifted a finger toward him, he would see the sky looking up from the sand. At that point
the guy seemed a little confused, apparently thought better of the situation and started to walk off in a huff. Jeremy was having none of it and shouted at him to apologize to the kid. You could see that the guy was visibly shaken now and he quickly mumbled a short apology and then resumed walking away. Jeremy yelled at him never to come back. That was the first time I witnessed Jeremy’s fiery side. Normally he would turn the other cheek rather than resort to any kind of violence. But he obviously had his limits and one of them was mistreatment of kids. Jeremy always looked out for the kid surfers. He remembered when he was just a youngster and fighting for good waves. More than once I witnessed him give up a favored place in the surf to a kid. He was just that way. No wonder he was idolized by his peers.

  After about four months when we were nearing completion of my home, I started thinking about the future. Things had gone well here in Ventura. The atmosphere and mood of the place were to my liking. I loved my new home and felt at ease in the surfing culture. My business mind told me that with Ventura being so close to L.A., the value of beach houses should soar in the future. So I called Eric and had him show me some other rundown beach houses for sale in the vicinity and bought four of them. I took a deep breath when I got home realizing that I had just made the decision to go into business for myself.

  I asked Jeremy what he thought about moving into one of my newly purchased homes and working with me in remodeling the others. He was dumbfounded and readily accepted. As I had bought all new furniture for my place, we moved all the old furniture into his new abode. He told me that this was the first time he had ever had his own place. Knowing from our conservations just how promiscuous Jeremy was, I laughingly told him he would now have his own place to bring special guests whenever he wanted.

  Chapter 3

  The Soldier

  During that chaotic time when Sur and I were assigned to brigade staff, we were not only roommates but always together since my job was to look out for him. During his planning meetings, I observed him in action as he artfully developed a plan which, upon implementation, was intended to end the war’s combat activities. Sur was a master at suggesting or inferring ideas which others picked up on. I lost track of the times some higher ranking officer would take credit for something that Sur had subtly suggested and was astounded by Sur’s knowledge of military operations including such things as artillery and aircraft tactics. When I complimented him on this, he laughed saying he sort of picked things up as he went along. Very few, if any, of the other committee members realized just how amazing Sur’s powers of persuasion were and that almost all of the final plan had originated, in one form or another, from Sur’s suggestions. When the plan was finally employed, it was hugely successful. Sur rebuffed all attempts to honor him or award him any medals. He insisted that others involved in the planning process deserved all of the credit. His one request was that he be permitted to leave the service quietly when his obligation was completed and move on with his life as a civilian.

  When he left to fly back to the world, I was fearful that our paths might never cross again. I had just been promoted to captain and everyone expected that I would continue in my career as an army officer. Indeed, soon after the promotion, my commanding general took me aside and told me that I could anticipate rapid promotions and coveted assignments in the future. When I had returned to the States at the end of my Vietnam tour, my superiors at Fort Lewis treated me like some kind of returning hero. News of my record in Vietnam had preceded me especially that I had been a member of the team which planned the operations to end the fighting. They were shocked and in disbelief when I requested to be released from the remainder of my military service obligation. More than one high ranking officer tried to talk me out of resigning my commission but I was unrelenting in my decision. No doubt in recognition of my meritorious record, the request was granted and I was honorably discharged.

  With some regret, I left the army behind and flew home to Los Angeles. My parents welcomed me with open arms but it was obvious that they too were somewhat dismayed and confused about my walking away from my army career. I explained to them as best I could that I was proud to have served and done my duty to my country but after long deliberation I made the decision that I wanted to return to civilian life in the real world just as my best friend in Vietnam had done.

  My parents eventually accepted my decision mostly because they knew me well enough to know that I had made it only after careful consideration. They asked what I intended to do now with my life and Dad offered me an attractive position with his construction firm. I politely declined explaining that right now I needed a breather. They understood as they could tell that my Vietnam experience had taken a heavy toll on me. After being home for several days, I called Sur mainly to say hello and let him know I had left the army behind. He was overjoyed to hear from me and insisted I come to Ventura and crash at his place for a few days so we could catch up. When I arrived at his door a couple of days later, we both just smiled hello and hugged. He grabbed my suitcase and settled me into his spare bedroom. His pad was awesome. After we sat down, he opened a bottle of wine and toasted to our good fortune in meeting up again. Both of us remembered well a couple of times when our brigade commander had invited just the two us to his hooch for some good wine to celebrate the success of missions in the jungle we had just returned from. That led to other recollections about our ‘Nam days. Sur made us dinner and opened more wine. Several hours later I collapsed on my bed quite blitzed. The next morning I woke up later than usual and trudged into the kitchen just about the same time he did. We nursed our hangovers together with some good coffee and began to talk about the present.

  •

  When I joined the brigade staff, Ward was its most junior officer. I then took on that dubious distinction. During his initial assignment in Vietnam, Ward was leader of an infantry platoon. His unit had some rough encounters with the enemy and several of his men were killed or injured in combat operations. His subsequent assignment to brigade staff no doubt was made in recognition of his excellent leadership and bravery as a platoon leader and also because he had the “right stuff”. Ward had graduated near the top of his class at West Point and just looked like the consummate young army officer. Broad shoulders, square jaw, erect posture, military haircut and steely blue eyes. He had an air about him which commanded respect. I can only imagine how shocked he was when he found out another lieutenant would be joining the brigade staff and that he would have a new assignment which would be to look out for my ass and keep me out of trouble. That’s a story for another day.

  As soon as I joined brigade staff, I became Ward’s roommate in the junior officers’ hooch. Almost immediately we became buddies partially through circumstances as we were at the bottom of the rank heap. Since his job was more or less to be my bodyguard, we were together most all the time. By necessity, Ward attended all the same meetings and briefings I did and, in effect, became a member of the planning committee. Some of the other members no doubt figured out that his primary role was to watch my back. In reality though, Ward and I watched each other’s backs particularly when we were on missions together across the border in enemy infested jungle.

  After returning to the States, I assumed that Ward would continue his military career. Without question, he had what it took to rise to the top ranks one day. When I answered the door and saw him, we both just choked up for a minute we were so happy to see each other. After inviting him in we proceeded to talk ourselves into an alcoholic stupor. At breakfast the next morning, I brought him up to date on my new business. I told him all about Jeremy’s teaching me to surf and how the two of us had remodeled my home. I explained that the two of us were almost finished now refurbishing another beach house and had two more to go after that. Ward had told me he no plans at the moment, so I called Jeremy to tell him I would be playing hooky that day as my best buddy from Vietnam had dropped in for a visit. Ward and I then spent the entire day messing around do
wn on the beach. I introduced him to the weed and was not surprised at all when he told me it was his first time. Once we got a little stoned, the laughing commenced as we recalled some of the zanier moments of our ‘Nam days like the time the two of us ganged up on one of our pompous ass captains who liked to pull rank at every opportunity. To retaliate, we began saluting him repeatedly and calling him “sir” three or four times in a sentence. He got the message especially when the general himself reminded him that under no circumstances were we to be distracted from our work.

  While watching the surfers out in the waves, Ward recalled his surfing days when he was growing up. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten that. When we returned to the house for lunch, I called Jeremy again and suggested that maybe the next day the three of us go surfing. Like Jeremy needed persuading. After dinner that night, Ward and I walked down to the beach, lit up another joint and just laid back on the sand watching the stars come out. We both knew then I think that our lives were destined to become intertwined once again.

  When Jeremy picked us up early the next morning, Ward was so excited as he had had hardly touched a surfboard since going off to West Point. Soon the three of us were paddling out together into pretty good surf conditions. Whenever one of us would nail a great ride, the other two would yell out their support. When we walked back to the truck at the end of the day, we were all giddy from terrific surfing.