The last few days leading up to the Fourth of July, I have been breaking out the longboard quite a bit, really digging on some small, clean lines and loving the glide as the dawn sun rises, but all this freedom really makes me think about all the folks around the world who can't just grab a board and hit the surf every day. Lucky enough to be born American and lucky again to be part of a generation to somehow wiggle out of the direct effects of major war only to be sandwiched between both the Vietnam and Iraq conflicts (Is there such a thing as "dumb" luck?). Not everyone has been that lucky, however.

During this realization, I came across an interesting project. Like a flower growing in the middle of a firestorm, surfing somehow blossomed in the dead center of the Vietnam War. This new indie video narrated by John Milius examines the bizarre and symbolic juxtaposition of subculture and a politics, freedom and war…surfing under the jungle canopy of impending doom. Between the Lines looks to be both provocative and entertaining and a testament to all the folks who want nothing more than to follow their dreams but find themselves engulfed by the darkness of war. Don’t take your freedom to paddle out each day for granted. Cherish it.

Board design and shaping have been a bone of contention in the surfing community over the last decade. But I see the biggest problem in that the surfer and his board are becoming more and more distant as design techniques progress. If we are to go back to the beginning, Hawaiians came together as a community in shaping and building a new surfboard. The finished board was a family treasure and its launching into the water was a community event. Even as materials changed and surfboard shaping became a business, surfers and shapers often stood together in the shaping room in a sort of refinement session where they communicated about the surfer's goal for the board.

The advent of the "almost shaped" blank saw shapers become "scrapers". Mass produced surfboards have brought down some prices, and surfers have lost some contact with their surfboards...that soul connection that inspired me to keep my surfboard in my bedroom so no harm would come to my precious possession. I fixed every ding as it happened and tried to keep it fresh for as long as possible. A new surfboard was like adopting a child. In my mind I gently whispered, "I'll take good care of you, baby."

Today, surfboards have become disposable, and even with attempts at creating more "green" surfboards, it's the attitude of surfers themselves that has changed. We really can't blame the industry for becoming more streamline and more profitable. In reality, it's surfers who own these companies and surfers who are using shaping machines and surfers who are buying up all this stuff. There's no avoiding progress and new technologies and such (and no real reason to), but we can try to stay true to the tradition that gave birth to our culture and art. We need to keep that attitude that surfing is an art first and that no matter where the board under your feet came from, it is the way you connect to the energy of the wave. That's the soul connection. Cherish it and nourish it. Don’t toss your old board. Fix it up. Give it to a kid. Donate it to a cause, and please fix your dings.