Adam's Cove

Somewhere on the California Coast---I climbed over huge rocks to what revealed itself as a small cove. Among the locals it is a secret spot to surf and have late night parties. That’s how Adam knew it as a kid.

It has been 13 years since his death. For me he walked on water as far as I was concerned. But for real he was a great stand up jet skier, and dirt bike rider, and supercross rider, and bicyclist...anything fast. And that’s why my friend and I named him and his group of friends “go-fast boys”.

I met him and his friend Paul on a street corner in Daytona Beach, Florida. Literally. We were all 20-something and that chance meeting on the corner of A1A and Seabreeze turned into life-long friendships. They lived in Atlanta and my house became the beach house crash pad for a trail of friends of friends of friends. I used to say that when they all came into town it was like taking a trip without even leaving the farm. I learned to stand up jet ski in the ocean jumping waves and it consumed my life for at least 10 years. I would joke that it wasn’t a good weekend unless someone got bloody. Someone usually did.

But it was Adam that changed everything with his diagnosis of Leukemia. Suddenly we were all more than good-time friends, we were having real life conversations and started really getting to know each other. He inspired hundreds to join the bone marrow transplant donors list, raise money and run marathons for the cause. For me it was my first marathon in San Diego, my running partner Beverly and I raised $25,000 only due to amazing friends and corporations.

I remember the day I found out he was sick. He called me late at night after earlier that day his wife Kristy had called and broke the news to me.  He was calling because he heard I was upset and he wanted to assure me that he was going to beat it. He gave me a full pep talk!

A bone marrow transplant later, too many rounds of chemo, so many twists and turns and miracle stories, and lots and lots of people praying and hoping…Adam made it through, but not out.

He died in 2000. It seems like yesterday…it seems like a lifetime ago. Kristy followed his wishes and he was cremated. Then later, on the shores of this secret cove, where he had grown up but a world away from Atlanta, Georgia, a small group gathered with surf boards to spread his ashes. Kristy told us later of that amazing day.

I called and spoke to her in Atlanta from the cove and she repeated the story:

“Suddenly a group of dolphins appeared and swam around us,” her voice cracking with emotion. “It was just so unexpected. It was so amazing and special.”

And so I stood, after years of wondering what it looked like, there surrounded by cliffs in “Adam’s Cove” on the coast of California, waiting. Staring out at the endless Pacific Ocean wishing that dolphins would appear. But they did not. He was not there.

If anywhere, he is jumping the biggest waves in Daytona or ahead of his friends riding a dirt bike.