For me, as for most Australians, summer holidays have always meant going to the beach. I grew up swimming and playing in the waves, eventually moving on to a body board, but somehow missing out on learning to stand on a surfboard.
I finally made up for that omission when I was in my 50s — too old ever to become good at it, but young enough for surfing to give me a decade of fun and a sense of accomplishment.
This southern summer, I'm back in Australia, in the waves again. At the beach where I surfed the other day, I heard about a ceremony there earlier in the season, a farewell to a local surfer who had died at a ripe old age.