Surfing The Wake of Faded Memories
by Mr.e

Ok, so I once was pseudo athletic and enjoyed all sorts of fun stuff like skiing, mountain biking, squash, skateboarding and Frisbee. A time before my body began to show signs of wear and tear.

All that seems a long time ago and I’m acutely aware of the feelings of envy, excitement and longing that rush to the surface every time I see some guy my age cruising along on a long board skateboard. By the way, this long board thing is responsible for bringing back into the skateboard fold a lot of older riders who’ve stopped riding for whatever reasons. But this story isn’t about skateboarding.

I grew up in the Teutonic country in Europe, where I began to mess with that sport and it is that place I think of when I see the guys on long boards. "Yeah, I used to skate …"
I never did try surfing. Well not the kind where you hurtle down near vertical waves faces. I surf the Internet though and it was while pursuing that ‘sport’ that I stumbled upon some long dormant memories.

The search I initiated was for local German newspapers of the towns I’d once called home. One of the search results leapt right off the screen. Right there in front of me was the web address of the private school I spent a few troubled years at. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Looking that place up never even crossed my little mind. Memories of conflict, rules, and the stuff that makes a moderately rebellious youth dislike educational institutions were what this web site revived when I clicked on the link and was transported back in time.

Ok, I do remember how proud I was to learn to read and write English in grade seven (I’d spent my first six school years in the German Public school system); I’m still a lousy speller.
But I wanted to revisit the bigger picture, the place I still miss: the small town the school is located in.

Kandern is a quaint and very old town (quietly marking its 1,200th year when the US was whooping up 200 years) nestled against the edge of a legendary and very dark forest near the Swiss and French borders. Its claim to fame is pottery, bricks and pretzels. Of course they also have their share of ‘Gast-Haus’ establishments where the thirsty can knock back some local beers or wines and sample some delectable local specialties from the kitchen.

The official town web-site offered little more than frustrating glimpses of itself and only wet my appetite for more. I guess I’ll just have to go back one of these days.

I am still a bit awestruck by this technology that allows me to ‘surf’ anywhere and everywhere I want to go. I don’t believe that I’ll every try the real get-wet-and-chomped-by sharks surfing, but this Internet surf sport offers it’s own excitement. My favorite sites are the ‘big waves’; the dull and uninteresting ones are the small swells between sets.

A bonus of this chance discovery was that I have again made contact with some of my graduating class. It was a very small school then and there were only 11 of us.