By ~ Harry B. Sanderford
It was down to him now, the last man standing and the only one left looking east on this chilly Saturday morning dawn patrol. 'Screw it', he said and set his coffee on the old Rambler's dashboard before grabbing his wetsuit out of the back seat and tugging it right side out. A quick towel change later he zipped up, unstrapped his board from the roof rack, grabbed it by the rail and flipping it once caught it one-handed before tucking it under his arm and trotting off down the beach. Near the water's edge he stopped to stretch and watched the lead wave of a new set build into a perfect feathery lipped peak at the exact moment that the first rays of sunlight topped the horizon glinting green and gold through the pitching lip of the un-ridden tube. It was a pristine and privileged sight witnessed only on rare occasions but on this morning such beauty was unbearable. This empty perfection would not last he knew as he turned his back on the surf to follow his shadow back up the beach.
(c) 2009 ~ Frankie's friend, Author Harry B. Sanderford
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~
Harry B. Sanderford is a Central Florida surfing cowboy who would sooner spin yarns than mend fences. That's what HE will tell you about himself and his writing. I must tell you though, because I care and admire this hearty soul's reach and write, that this particular piece of his published peace is now running in kurungabaa, an Australian publication, " a journal of literature, history and ideas from the sea". CONGRATS to you, our Harry, a driving spirit behind the scene changes and curtains opening AT THE BIJOU, a generous writer pal to all who merit his respect.
Kenny Sanderford is the brother and the artist of the amazing painting catching the wave of Harry's surfer world words . . . Those words? They are the soul-felt respect and tribute Harry wrote in only Harry's way of careful chosen thoughts towards his close-as-a-brother friend Frankie, who left this world much too suddenly almost a year ago, but is vitally alive in the way our close-as-a-brother friend shares respect . . . and words.
Words always have the power to transcend.
So does your love Har,
So do we.
the fine staff of renown and
friends, colleagues, readers of care,
*AT THE BIJOU*