While the tears still fell on the remains of last night’s fires, I still half expected our friend to come walking out from the trees, face all beaming with surprise at having stumbled upon this gathering of so many old friends. His memorial up at Patrick’s Point really was a beautiful thing. While we each carried the loss in our own way, it was an uplifting time of reconnecting with old friends. I hadn’t seen James for quite awhile. I’m sure the old nectar and its last ride were on his mind when his eyes lit up to tell me about a board he’d hiked out to that same spot and stashed in the bushes. It was an old green single-fin. PURE JOY. As it turned out, it was rescued from yet another rejection, an unwanted end of the day garage-sale giveaway, still full of ugly bondo non-fixed split open dings. When James passed by and read those two simple words, out of the ashes, a new life was born for the old green single fin.