Rip Tide

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• January 6, 2026

“There’s a time in our lives
We start again on writing our part
As the story goes on
It’s the rule that we remember our lines

I know everyone would want me to say
That I’m not afraid to be alone

I’m gonna live, I’m alright
I’m gonna die, it’s alright, I’m okay”

— That’s Some Dream, Good Old War

Hale’iwa is my favorite surfing spot on Oahu. It is on the North Shore but it hardly lives up to the famed North Shore spots like Pipeline, and that’s a very good thing. Because Hale’iwa is tucked into a sort of groove in the island, the swell is generally much smaller and way safer than the often terrifying and at times life threatening breaks at Sunset Beach or Chambers. When I say I mostly surf the North Shore, such a statement could make me seem like a I’m a much better surfer than I am, when in actuality I usually am surfing Hale’iwa with the children.

It’s a family vibe at Hale’iwa. Children are accompanied with their dads and moms in the break, surrounded by sea turtles. Parents sometimes push their little ones into swells, and make no mistake, even though these kids can be as young as six years old, they are little shredders and already a better surfer than I’ll ever be.

The main break at Hale’iwa is usually pretty crowded, occupied by the best surfers at the beach. This is one of the reasons why I hang to the side, waiting for a smaller inside swell. Usually, it’s me and the little kids or groms (slang for kid surfers). The groms are so cute. They’re all local, you can tell by how good they are at surfing so young. It’s a mix of Hawaiian native looking kids and kids with super blond hair. They are supportive of each other and cheer when one gets a good wave. They coordinate on waves too, “I’m gonna try to go right on this wave, you go left.”

After I take a wave, I turn to paddle back out. This little boy, around six or seven, a mop of beach blond hair not unlike my own when I was small, gets a wave. I watch as he makes his way at me. I’m not concerned about a collision. He’s good enough he can get around me and I’m aware enough I can dodge him as well, I just have to see where he’s going. We narrowly miss each other and when I emerge from the white water I look for him. His skinny arm reaches for his board and in a tiny voice asks, “are you okayyy?”

So sweet. “I’m okay,” I say, “are you?” And he nods and paddles back out. It’s a super kooky move to mostly be surfing with the groms but they don’t seem to care or even notice me. Purely in their own world, and that world is heaven most people have never known because they never surfed Hawaii. Good fortune is not lost on me.

The first time I came to Hawaii, over a decade ago when my sister moved here with her then boyfriend, I was overwhelmed with the beauty of this place. I had already committed my life to comedy and had big writing dreams, but I knew for certain had I come to Hawaii a little sooner in my life, before I had started that path, I would have called my Mom and told her put my stuff in a box and send it because I wasn’t leaving. You may or may not be surprised how frequently that happens. People come for short trips and end up staying years. I even met couples who came on their honeymoon and started over there. Traveling is one of my favorite things to do, and I would say at this point of my life I live for traveling as much as I live for anything. Usually, after about a week, I’m pretty happy to come home to New York. Those feelings do not exist for me when I’m in Hawaii, and I think about these islands like a love sick teenager.

Seeing these little blond beach kids, I wonder if in another life had I relocated to Hawaii maybe I would have met a nice military guy and we’d have little ocean obsessed children. Of course I don’t delude myself that a perfect life exists anywhere. What if scenarios can be dangerous thoughts. Hawaii is expensive as Hell, and that’s coming from a native New Yorker. So there’s that, and isolation from all the people on the mainland you love whom you’ll seldom see.

This year I’ll be 37. I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished much but I reckon most people feel that way. The lack of things happening career wise or personally make a midlife drastic change all the more tempting. I’ve suffered enough personal injuries to not take my body for granted. Every year that goes by, wear and tear happens. I’m not quite as athletic nor not quite as cute. You start to ask yourself some existential questions. Your 40s likely is the last decade of sporting. Sure, I know surfers in their 50s and 60s that are as good as anyone, but that’s not the norm.

I’m unsure what I’m chasing anymore. Living a life of uncertainty. Home, in New York, once a place of wonder and opportunity, is a place I dread and worry and feel alone. Chasing a wave, there is no existential crisis. There’s just you and this wave.

I figure, I’ll give New York another year or two, searching for my “break.” Fighting a rip current is pointless. You’ll lose. I’m so tired of losing.