My mouth was open. I know that because when I did the face-plant into the bottom of the wave, I was gargling salt water, thinking that maybe I was about to die. The wave drove me deep into the water. I flapped my arms around, thinking that going back up to the surface was a good idea.
But it wasn't. At least not then.
I surfaced just in time to open my eyes and see my airborne surfboard eclipsing the morning sun. And aimed straight for my head. Wham.
Maybe Lisa had appeared out of nowhere for a reason. I was kind of like a frog in a fairy tale who needed a kiss from a princess so he could turn into a prince. Only, instead of a frog, I was a might-be-gay kid who needed straightening out, and instead of a princess, she was a cigarette-smoking tattooed city girl with a bag full of mix tapes. I figured that was close enough.
We Are Coming Home
"I brought a sacred headdress to an aaawaahskataiki (ceremonial grandparent) of the women's Maotoki society. Before leaving the museum, I had stuffed the headpiece with acid-free tissue, carefully folded the trailer around more tissue, and placed the entire piece in an acid-free archival box, padding out space with yet more tissue. When I brought the package into the elder's home, she gased with horror. The tissue was rapidly discarded and the headdress was rolled tightly, wrapped in a cloth, and secured with twine. It was, in fact, swaddled, much the way a newborn baby is enclosed for care and protection. Here, again, was an alternative way of understanding what these sacred objects are and how they should be cared for. Over time, I have also come to appreciate that the use fo these items is not detrimental to their well-being. In fact, their participation in ceremonies keeps them alive and vibrant."
