The Surfer from Arkansas
My first summer of grad school was spent lifegaurding for the National Park Service along the Gulf Coast. I was on a beach that would later become famous for where a young boy from Mississippi got his arm bitten off by a shark and then his uncle pulled the shark from the water. I. Shit. You. Not. In case anyone ever doubted our national response to invasions by bull sharks,Carcharhinus leucas, several rounds were fired into him while he lay gasping on the beach. This was a bad shark.

I worked with a much younger guy who had come down from Arkansas in the hopes of finding a lifeguard job on the beach. Having done his share of YMCA pools at home, he wanted the seashore. He just blindly trusted that something would turn up. He wasn't the fastest or strongest swimmer, but his enthusiasm was contagious. He was a good kid, clean cut and respectful, honest and hardworking. I'm glad I got to meet him because he's dead now.

Kevon came to town trained as a lifeguard, but he aspired to be more, EMS, even hoped one day to become an ER nurse. The possibilities are endless when you're that young. He had drive, sincerity and that southern gift of easy conversation. During the afternoons, with a southern cool breeze stirring, we perched in the lifeguard stand watching the water. Kevon would recreate countless episodes of The Simpsons, almost verbatim, dream of the seafood nachos at the beach restaurant, and generally enjoy being on the beach. He had trained for SCUBA certification in a turbid lake in Arkansas; he really enjoyed the clear emerald waters. He had a utility belt, with flashlight, scissors, and radio. We called him the surfin' Arkansian.

As the summer wore on, punctuated by the ebb and flow of people on Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and the weekends, we talked about the water, the girls, and what everyone would do at the end of the summer. Mostly we enjoyed our stretch of beach: driving the four-wheeler in the early morning on turtle patrol; swimming out to our "artificial reef", several concrete blocks out in about twelve feet of water; and the daily swims. I've never had a better job.

Sometime around August, with the heat coming on oppressive and the wind becoming unsteady, I left for grad school. The other guys held on a few more weeks until the season ended, retreating to school or some job to get through the winter. Kevon enrolled in the local junior college, and eventually, after the second summer, got work as a paramedic.

A few years past. I got see the guys over the next few years while living at the park. Kevon did one more summer and then took a full time EMS job. Time passed, I was out of touch with the guys, being older and starting my job. It came like a body punch to hear he was in the hospital. When I saw him he couldn't eat anymore, but the tube feeding him was hidden and throughout my visits he was upbeat and still possessed of the charm that made him unforgettable. His funeral was the largest I've ever been to, with a cross section of ages and professions. The most common sentiment was how unfair it was for one who was happiest when looking out for others, was struck down so young.

I spoke with one of the doctors he worked with several months after his death. I asked about the cancer. I remember his response, "That was a bad cancer."

Seen a shooting star tonight
Slip Away.
Tomorrow will be another day.
Guess it's too late to say the things to you
That you needed to hear me say.
Seen a shooting star tonight
Slip away.
Bob Dylan