‘Old Surfers Never Die’: the Aloha words of Dennis Gregory
My name is Dennis Gregory, and I have been surfing for as long as I can remember.
I was born in Austin, Texas, in 1948. When I was four, my parents moved to Orange County, where I grew up surrounded by orange groves.
My early days riding waves were spent in Southern California before moving to Hawaii’s Big Island in the late 1960s.
I studied English, journalism, and speech at the University of Hawaii at Hilo, where I founded its first literary magazine.
Words have always been as important as waves for me.
In 1978, I was named “Poet Laureate of Hawaii” by the University of Hawaii President.
Around that time, I also formed my first band, Denny and the Lava Brothers.
Then, I lived in Northern California’s wine country for a while before returning to Hawaii.
More than a decade later, in the 1990s, I returned to the Big Island’s Puna district and enjoyed musical success, with my music and album “Sex, Drugs and Sushi Roll” getting generous airplay.
I was fortunate to travel the world and sing on the streets of London, Greece, and San Francisco.
When I got back to my beloved Hawaii, I taught English and published novels and poetry books.
My musical career continued, and in 2010, I released “Daybreak” (Malolo Records). I also hosted a monthly produced cable TV series, “Big Island Speaks Out.”
My work is often inspired by causes that are dear to me and, of course, the spirit of Aloha.
Nowadays, I am still writing a column for West Hawaii Today, a daily newspaper based in Kailua-Kona.
The following poem is a tribute to Nick Martin, a buddy of waves who is now surfing in that surf spot in the sky.
We had a lot of fun together and with friends since the 1960s. These are my words for him.
“Old Surfers Never Die”
On some distant morning when you were barely ten.
You knew the waves were calling, and you felt the offshore wind,
Or was it the Santanas blowing warm one night?
That made you gaze out to the sea and made your heart take flight.
In that magic moment, you were captured by the waves
And from that first day forward to the surf, you’d be a slave.
You’d dream of green and endless lines sweeping to the beach,
And knew that Mother Ocean had lessons of life to teach.
Life’s wisdom is what the ocean shows
This secret every surfer knows.
So many mornings, you stood tall and gazed out to the sea,
And saw the blue waves rise and fall, feeling young and free.
You felt the icy water brushing on your chest
As you paddled out with a shout and gave the waves your best.
You came alive with every ride, born again each day!
Feeling so good inside as you surfed your life away.
You flew to beaches far and wide and surfed around the world, something pounding deep inside to forever ride the curl.
From Trestles Beach to Sano, down to Mexico,
from Malibu to Rincon, to the boneyard at Doho.
You flew to the islands, hit Pipeline and the Bay
You even charged Sunset Beach on a 35-foot day!
Burning with surf fever, you had a surfboard on your back,
Every morning of your life, you put your surfboard on the rack.
You paddled all around the world till your arms began to ache,
It was getting harder every day to paddle out to the break.
And though the call of the surf was strong on the tired sand, you’d sit,
You still could hear the sea’s sweet song but felt it was time to quit.
At Old Man’s Beach at Sano, old surfers drink their beer,
And tell surf tales of long ago as their final days grow near.
Around them are their surfboards stacked beside the sea,
They long to paddle out again – but know it can never be.
In the end, they have inside their memories of old,
And remember every single ride upon the waves of gold.
You know old surfers never die, they surf forever in the sky,
On perfect waves in an endless sea, surfing through eternity.
Words by Dennis Gregory | Surfer, Writer, Teacher, and Musician
