Hope Still Catches a Wave

Imagine being young with the whole world to explore. You have hopes and dreams, many of them foolish, but then, that’s the glory of youth. In our tender years we are allowed juvenile meanderings. In those innocent days, we are allowed to wear what, in later years, may be downright shameful. We may be allowed to have our hair cut or dyed in a certain way that mature folks would never permit.
We do things in those playful years that our young bodies allow. We may climb trees, jump into swimming holes buck naked, sneak off into the woods to smoke. Amazingly, we think all the while that we were “putting one over” on our elders. In time, we come to comprehend they knew all along of our shenanigans.
Some children are blessed with creative talents at an early age. They can draw or paint wonderfully, and we may puzzle where they obtained such knowledge without being taught. Other children can play a violin, something I cannot fully comprehend, or perhaps a piano without sheet music, and make wondrous sounds.
Take all these unexplained capabilities and many more, and then imagine what it must be like to be told by your doctor that you have some form of cancer. How would that tender mind react to such a notification? Would a little boy or girl come to know what that meant, other than going to many more doctors and treatment centers? And parents of such youngsters – how do they deal with the stress and side effects on their beloved offspring? What gives them the nearly supernatural ability to make seemingly endless trips to distant cities, like Philadelphia or New York City or Baltimore where some of the world’s finest treatments may be found?
And the continuous string of accompanying bills, how enormous they can be for one single treatment. Even with insurance, the financial toll must be phenomenal, adding one more strain on the adult, and quite possibly the child.
Why do I write this? Because, on Aug. 2, on Avalon’s 30th Street beach, one of this region’s foremost fundraising events for local pediatric cancer patients will take place. For those new to the area, that day-long event will be “The Brendan” Surf Memorial. It will start at 6:30 a.m. and continue through until 5 p.m.
Many who will attend are surfers. They rode the waves with Brendan Borek, in whose memory the event is held. Each of them looked out to the horizon, as to the future, and kept hoping for that “big” wave to form that would carry them safely into shore.
Not lads any longer, those are stout men who never forgot their friend. Annually they gather from around the nation on Avalon’s sand. There, with the Borek family, they remember their pal, that boy who had hopes and dreams, just as they did. But his “ride” was to be cut short by illness.
As the foundation’s website states, “Brendan Borek loved life, and life it seemed, loved Brendan. An avid surfer, gifted artist, and an agile soccer player, his teenage years mirrored life at its fullest.
Diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma (cancer of the bone) at 16, he vied against death with courage and dignity until the disease claimed him in December 1991. Because Brendan touched the hearts of many, the Brendan Borek High Tides Memorial Fund, Inc. (Brendan’s Fund) was established in 1992 by his family and friends.”
Through the years since the first surf memorial was held, many Cape May County boys and girls and their families have benefitted from the fund. The surf memorial is not the sole fundraiser, other events are held throughout the year. But it is there, on the beach, where it all comes together.
Symbolic of the circle of life and friendship is the noon circle of surfers. They will paddle into the ocean, just beyond the breakers, there to form a huge circle. They will bob up and down with the motion of the sea and will hold hands high. Each will carry a flower handed to them by Lydia Borek, who sees her son in each of those fine men. Those flowers will be tossed on the water, and each one will think of Brendan and boyhood and hope.
There won’t be many dry eyes amongst the crowd, especially when the names of those helped by the fund are read. Since they were local children, we can still picture their smiles, their impish faces, their steadfast belief that sustained them through the worst that can happen to anyone, girl or boy, man or woman. Still, they faced their illness with bravery, helped along by the High Tide Memorial Fund.
If you need to witness that intangible thing called hope, I would urge you to make your way to Avalon’s 30th Street beach at noon Aug. 2. You are certain to find hope in great abundance on those hot sands. Many who will be selling items to raise money for the fund have themselves been aided by it. They experience a bond with the event’s namesake that is almost impossible to describe.
Make believe you’re a carefree lad or lass. Go, see what it is all about. Do it for Brendan, do it for you. Let go, that’s part of being youthful.