Free and Easy
The life of a surfer is free and easy, another day another wave. He may look sloppy but he does what he loves, and he knows his thing better than any teacher. His days are lived one at a time and the beach is his home. The waves are his brothers and he understands them - how they surge and break, how they react to different conditions. He has no need for the big city; he loves the

Free and Easy
The life of a surfer is free and easy, another day another wave. He may look sloppy but he does what he loves, and he knows his thing better than any teacher. His days are lived one at a time and the beach is his home. The waves are his brothers and he understands them - how they surge and break, how they react to different conditions. He has no need for the big city; he loves the quiet and peaceful beach, far from the maddening freeways and trains. His worldly goods consist of only a ten foot board, but in the world of the spirit he rides the venturesome waves of youth and freedom.
Alan Griffiths
ninth grade

I knew Alan mainly at Holly Ave. Elementary School in Arcadia. We lived a fair distance from Holly. Alan, lived, literally, right across the street. I was always so envious that he got home faster than any of the rest of us! He was always a very nice guy. I was a twerp back then and he never gave me a bad time ... always nice. I last saw Alan at our 25 year class reunion in 1997. We chatted

I knew Alan mainly at Holly Ave. Elementary School in Arcadia. We lived a fair distance from Holly. Alan, lived, literally, right across the street. I was always so envious that he got home faster than any of the rest of us! He was always a very nice guy. I was a twerp back then and he never gave me a bad time ... always nice. I last saw Alan at our 25 year class reunion in 1997. We chatted briefly and things were going pretty well for him. We've lost 40 of our friends and classmates now. Losing one who you knew since you were 5 just seems that much tougher for whatever reason. Alan, you're well now. God Bless!

Remembering the many nights under the tree at my parents house& how I would bomb all of you with out mercy with apricot's or whay ever I could find! It was Alan who would catch me in the back most of the time & drag me up front for my lick-ens from all of you! If it wasn't getting thrown In the blanket, It was tickle tortures from hell! Alan, Uncle & a few others were always there to settle me down afterwards! I those were some good time under that TREE!

I do not remember exact;y when the Griffiths moved to Greenfield Ave., and I first recall meeting Alan when I was in High School. I used to ride my bike up and down the street and he would be out in front working on his white BMW. He was older then me, but we soon discovered that we had many mutual friends. I would stop to chat with him and then he started inviting me to parties and such. He

I do not remember exact;y when the Griffiths moved to Greenfield Ave., and I first recall meeting Alan when I was in High School. I used to ride my bike up and down the street and he would be out in front working on his white BMW. He was older then me, but we soon discovered that we had many mutual friends. I would stop to chat with him and then he started inviting me to parties and such. He also would take me to the beach once and awhile, and my parents did not really approve. I remember one night up in the hills of Pasadena at a party, he gave me a ride home in a Porsche he was driving across the states, and I thought I was going to die! He drove that car so fast through the winding hills of Pas I was white knuckling it, with eyes closed, but he drove with such precision and he knew what he was doing. I also remember his dog, a white Husky Samoyed mix, and I can almost think of her name......she was so cute! I loved her. She had puppies and I begged my Dad to let me have one, NO WAY! I took one home anyway, and did not tell my parents. That lil pup cried and kept me awake all night, AND POOPED in my room. There was no hiding a puppy, so I had to give it back. I WAS SO MAD at my parents, I was going to move out!
Alan you were always such a nice guy and I will always remember you, even though I have not seen you in years.
RIP Alan. God Bless you.

When I was 4 years old I walked all the way down to the corner of Holly and Duarte.I was playing in the gutter , I looked up and saw a kid like me doing the same thing, we waved at each other. That was all it took to be lifelong friends.
A few years later my Dad used to take us Larsons and some neighborhood friends to the Driftwood Dairy in El Monte to see the cows. We all

When I was 4 years old I walked all the way down to the corner of Holly and Duarte.I was playing in the gutter , I looked up and saw a kid like me doing the same thing, we waved at each other. That was all it took to be lifelong friends.
A few years later my Dad used to take us Larsons and some neighborhood friends to the Driftwood Dairy in El Monte to see the cows. We all decided to play in the " mud ", behind the dairy. Well as you can figure out the mud was cow dung. When we goy home my parents put us in the tub and threw the clothes in the wash. Later that evening Alan came over and had only changed his SHIRT. From then on my dad called him " The Dirt Bomb". My Dad used to love to tell that story. Steve , I believe this is where "bommie", originated.
From the gutter to paper routes , his shack, the Stevens house and all points between, Alan was a friend you could p/u with after a lenghty
absence. I loved him through all the years and will miss him. RIP dear friend. LeRoy

My family moved to Arcadia, Ca in 1962 and Alan was the first kid I remember hanging around my house. He was my older brother's friend but he never seemed to mind if I tagged along, perhaps on his paper route or going "uptown" for candy and to cause trouble. Since hearing of his passing most of my thoughts have been of those days long past.
I was visiting my mom in Arizona shortly after hearing of his passing and brought

My family moved to Arcadia, Ca in 1962 and Alan was the first kid I remember hanging around my house. He was my older brother's friend but he never seemed to mind if I tagged along, perhaps on his paper route or going "uptown" for candy and to cause trouble. Since hearing of his passing most of my thoughts have been of those days long past.
I was visiting my mom in Arizona shortly after hearing of his passing and brought her the sad news. During our long reminiscence session that night she recalled how he would do wheelies on his bicycle the length of our block. She thought for a moment and said, "you know, his bicycles always looked like they would just fall apart while he was riding them, it's a wonder he wasn't killed!" She said he always looked like he needed a haircut and his face washed, which is probably why he was known as "Dirt". He was super accident prone and my dad used to say his family had an open account at the local emergency room. He was a little boy's little boy, sort of a cross between Dennis the Menace and Pigpen from the Peanuts comic strip. We got older and the adventures continued, as did his collection of rickety modes of transportation, which were always a part of his charm.
I guess he didn't want anyone wringing their hands over him after he got sick, or maybe he knew we'd be heartbroken over his passing and didn't want to see us like that. I just wish we hadn't drifted apart. Everything I've read here from his old friends has reminded me of something similar I shared with him. Man, did he ever leave a mark.
Om Shanti my friend.

Sitting in "El Ranchito Contento", Alan takes his cigarette and raises the "hot box" to his lips and blows. Sparks shower the dark room. "It's the 4th of Juuuulyyy", he announces.

Doing 80 down the 605, headed to my house, Alan is prattling on about something or another. Suddenly, brake lights. Griffiths deftly swerves into the median, sweeps past 5 or 6 stopped cars, and whips back into the fast lane, without touching the brakes. Alan continues on with his story

Sitting in "El Ranchito Contento", Alan takes his cigarette and raises the "hot box" to his lips and blows. Sparks shower the dark room. "It's the 4th of Juuuulyyy", he announces.

Doing 80 down the 605, headed to my house, Alan is prattling on about something or another. Suddenly, brake lights. Griffiths deftly swerves into the median, sweeps past 5 or 6 stopped cars, and whips back into the fast lane, without touching the brakes. Alan continues on with his story without missing a beat.

The stereo is blasting the Persuasions "Don't it make you wanna go home...". Alan is stooped in front of a laughing Travis in his high chair, lipsyncing the words , palms up and dancing.

Alan was one of my very best friends. He really was honest, hilarious, surprisingly gentle, and loving. God, I miss him.

HE WAS TOUGH AS A CROWBAR- HE WAS QUICK AS A CHISLE- FAIR AS A PLANE, AND TRUE AS A LEVEL.- HE WAS STRAIGHT AS A CHALKLINE,- RIGHT AS A RULE,- SQUARE WITH HIS FRIENDS, HE TOOK CARE OF HIS TOOLS ! TOUGH AS NAILS !!!!
anyone 4 "options" ?

I loved Alan. He was always a great fast funny sweet smart and dear friend to me. There is nothing I can say. So sad and sorry. I can only hope he knew we all loved him!

I loved Alan. He was always a great fast funny sweet smart and dear friend to me. There is nothing I can say. So sad and sorry. I can only hope he knew we all loved him!