Eddie Would Go

Yesterday we woke up at 4, before our workaholic neighbor whose kitchen light always turn on at 430, before the wild Hawaiin roosters starting their crowded crowing. On a normal day, it is a struggle to change diapers, find last minute snacks and bottles and all the important trucks to play with in the car, so when we were on the road by 5 with everyone in the car and no one crying, it was something of a miracle.

As we drove up the North Shore in the darkness, we kept seeing the white fingers of the waves crashing over the edges of the road in the peripherals of our headlights, and I kept checking my phone’s map, seeing the red gridlock of the traffic we were trying to beat spread slowly up and down the North Shore.

It was the morning of the Eddie, the most prestigious big wave surf competition in the world, and they had announced it was a ‘go’ the day before. Named after Eddie Aikau, a surfer and lifeguard who never lost a man as a lifeguard at Waimea Bay. He never lost a man until he volunteered to go for help when he and his other shipmates were stranded in the dark, open ocean after a deadly storm. Then he was never heard from again, despite one of the largest state rescue missions.

I knew of him before I moved here, but not the full story. But now living here, Eddie has crept into my subconscious as the epitome of this place. More at home on the water then on land, brashly selfless in his action for his ohana (family), and epitomized by the words used most often to describe him, “Eddie Would Go”.

And if Eddie Would Go, then so would we, at 4am, taking off work, with a baby and toddler who fall apart when they don’t get enough sleep, into a crowd of 20,000 people, on a 2 lane road that was never meant to accommodate that many.

We beat the gridlock and found parking two miles away, which was better than we had hoped for, gathered everything into a stroller and a carrier and two bags, and started the dark, crowded walk with two confused babies. Really, since they need their sleep so desperately, I doubt they had ever actually seen stars before!

After we had gone a mile, word started filtering back in comments and whispers. The waves were not the required 40 feet as had been predicted, and the Eddie does not run in less than ideal conditions. (It has only run eight times in thirty one years.) It was cancelled, and all our preparations, lost sleep, and lost energy were for nothing. Blanketed people with coolers of food started filtering back to their cars, and we also turned for the mile walk back, our poor toddler now even more upset he was not going to the beach.

We got everyone in the car and pulled out into the leaving traffic, silent and disappointed. It was unlikely everything would come together so well again for us to go. And in the back of my mind I envied the people who had decided to stay in bed, with rested babies, because we now had a difficult day ahead of us. And then Joe put his hand on mine and said, “You know, I’m disappointed, but have no regrets.”

How ironic, that on a day memorializing a man who lived by the words “Eddie Would Go”, and in fact, a man who died by being the one to go, that I would have regrets. There are people who play it safe and laugh at those who try and occasionally fall hard, but we try our very best not to be those people.

Eddie Would Go.

Would you?