• August 7, 1965: Throughout this summer it seems like everybody I know has gotten swept up in the surfing craze. Groups like the Beach Boys and Jan & Dean wailing about Surfing and Sidewalk Surfin’ have introduced us to a whole new lingo - expressions like toes on the nose, submarine races, hodads, gremmies and bitchin’! Although, every time my dad hears me using the word bitchin’ he thinks I’m swearing and totally loses his cool - threatening to wash my mouth out with soap. He’s pretty weird about stuff like that.

Since there’s no ocean close by, we grab our skateboards, find the steepest hills in town and go for it! We named the various hills after famous surfing beaches, like Malibu and Makaha. In fact, a group of us formed the Downers Grove Sidewalk Surfing Club. We all wear little Tiki gods around our necks as badges of membership.

We each have our special tricks, too. My big trick is to go down the steepest hill (Makaha) on one foot . . . backwards! Murph rides his board up and down street curbs. Other guys have their own signature tricks, like going down the hill while doing a handstand or jumping over high jumps.

It’s nice to live the surfing life . . . as much as it can be lived in the landlocked state of Illinois. One of these days, I’d love to go to California and do some real surfing in the ocean. It must be so cool to live in a place with sandy beaches and palm trees - bitchin’!

• September 14, 1965: Like Hi! as Dobie Gillis’ sidekick Maynard G. Krebs would say. Well, summer’s over and we have all returned to the drudgery of school once again. I’m sitting here in Algebra class, not paying attention as usual, thinking about a girl named Barbie Konway. We went to the movies a couple times together and she started getting all serious, so I just shined her on. But, suddenly, I can’t get her out of my mind.

You see, only one noteworthy thing has happened since I last wrote. That noteworthy incident is that Barbie Konway was in an automobile accident. It was a three-car collision, with her car in the middle, so she got hit from both the front and the back - a double whammy.

I was on my way to school one morning, my father chauffeuring me in his pickup truck, when we saw what looked like a car accident up ahead.

“Stupid drivers,” my dad said. “See what carelessness can cause?”

I remained silent.

“Hey, that looks like Konway’s car,” Dad announced as we approached nearer.

“I couldn’t be that lucky,” I replied, not really paying attention. It was only meant as a sarcastic joke.

“By God, it is Konway’s car,” old Dad informed me as we pulled up next to the collision site.

I looked and, sure enough, Mrs. Konway was standing beside her smashed auto. We pulled right up next to them for a moment. Barbie was sitting in the front passenger seat crying her eyes out.

From the cab of the truck, I looked down at Barbie who had her face buried in her arms, sobbing. All at once, I felt so sorry for her. I can’t explain why, but upon seeing the accident, the impact it had upon me was enormous; sad beyond all measure.

Sitting there in traffic, continuing to look down from our truck at Barbie crying - at that precise moment - Barbie lifted her head and looked directly up at me with tears streaming down her cherubic little face, her sad eyes boring a hole into my heart. That really got to me, when she looked at me I mean. It felt really weird. It was almost . . . beautiful.

In fact, in some strange way, it was beautiful. I don’t know exactly what I mean by the word beautiful, but I can’t think of any other word to express how it felt. We were sitting there, Barbie and me, looking at each other in the middle of a car crash. She looked so delicate and helpless. I wished there was something I could have done to console her. I wanted to leap from the truck, gather her up in my arms and assure her that everything would be all right.

Suddenly, Dad put the truck in gear and, with a jerk, we bolted away.

I was utterly confused by the way the entire incident made me feel. It’s really strange, prior to that day I’ve hardly cared a wit for Barbie. But it all changed that morning watching her cry, not knowing if she might be hurt and feeling helpless to come to her aid.

I told myself that I was just being corny and that I should snap out of it. But still, the pall from that accident was hard to shake. At school, I told all the guys about the accident. They made light of Barbie’s misfortune with jokes and sarcastic remarks. But all the while I was truly worried about Barbie. She dominated my thoughts all day long. Why oh why had I been so indifferent to Barbie’s affections in the past? Why had I been so downright mean toward her?

That evening, I called her house to see how she was doing. Her mom said that Barbie was all right. Barbie was sent to the hospital for some doctors to look her over (lucky doctors!) and then she was sent home. “I’m so glad to hear that,” I told her mother. And I really was, too.

So that’s how it went with Barbie’s accident. It may not have been too terribly exciting; hardly anything exciting ever happens around here. But I learned something about myself that day. I learned that I’m a sucker for damsels in distress.

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