surfing at Malibu. Levy graduated high school and went on to UCLA as a chemistry major. Then the changes began. First came 9/11. Then Levy gets arrested for making Xstasy on campus. My attorney got him off with probation. My stress levels at work started to go through the ceiling. Ernst was downsizing. They circulated a memo that said they planned to slash half of all department heads in the company, worldwide. I came up with an idea to move the entire accounting division back to Chicago. The boys in New York loved it. People were given the option to take a 50 percent pay cut and relocate to Illinois, or take their severance package and resign without benefits. Corporate said I was a genius. Over 90 days, I watched everyone I’d ever known in my professional life pack their things and leave, like refugees. I didn’t sleep well in those days. On October 24th 2008, I woke up at 4:00 am. I loaded my epoxy surfboard onto the roof of my car. I had just lost half a million dollars in the stock market that week, Levy hadn’t come home for two days, and my insomnia had grown worse than ever. I paddled out into the darkness alone at Ventura. The swell was huge, scary, black, foggy and dismal. I didn’t care though. I knew I could easily die out there, but my life on dry land had become so terrifying to me, that the water seemed a better place to be. My heart pounded. It took me 30 minutes to muster the courage to paddle into one of those vertical grey beasts rolling in from the Alaskan storm. The drop was endless. Falling, falling, falling, I dropped through the air until my fins bit. I made the bottom turn and pulled into the first barrel of my life. Time slowed. The sun was rising over the mountains. I stood there, arms stretched over my head, floating in that mammoth cavern of water. It whispered to me, hissing. Like the voice of God was saying, “I see you. I am with you. Remember me, for I am God…”
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