Caught a bit of an advertisement for a large funeral home chain on YouTube the other day. Guess the algorithm is aware that, statistically speaking, I’m closer to the end of my life than the beginning, no matter what. That’s not so strange, but it took me a moment to realize that the ad was referring to funerals – you know, the thing the company is selling – because it didn’t use that word, but said it would behoove me to prepare for my “celebration of life.”

How did that conversation go?

“No, no, take the word funeral out of the script.”

“But aren’t you selling pre-need funerals?”

“Sure, but you can’t use that word. It’ll remind people of death.”

Are we so squeamish about death? Sometimes I think so, and probably we are compared to – say – people living in the 19th century or pretty much any century before that. Still, I’m not sure potential funeral home customers would be that upset to hear about funerals.

Be that as it may, I’m still alive and looking for paths to travel. And I mean literal paths, such as the one that leads from the canals of Venice (in California) to the beach at Venice. It wasn’t a long path.

The path leads to a much longer one, two paths actually, that parallel the beach: one for pedestrians, the other for bicyclists.

Walk far enough to the north, toward Santa Monica, and you come across tennis courts, basketball courts, a skatepark and of course, Muscle Beach, whose equipment was fenced in. Not too many weightlifters were around, but then again, the entire area was only modestly crowded. I think overcast skies and 60-degree F. temps are just right for walking or otherwise moving along the ocean, but many people don’t seem to share that feeling.

Some do.

A raft of businesses, most catering to tourists and other visitors, face the beach.

Santa Monica Pier, visible in the distance (I didn’t make it again), is elaborate with shops and cafes and an amusement park and an aquarium.

Venice Pier is simple.

People were fishing from the pier. It offers a nice view of the wide beach, too.

Plus a look at some surfers. They weren’t deterred by the cool air or, for that matter, the chilly water.

Everything I know about surfing is second hand, mostly from unreliable sources. At one time, for instance, I heard that surfing was mighty wild and getting bigger every day, from Hawaii to the shores of Peru.

So I decided to spend a little while watching the surfers, to see what I could learn. Mostly I saw them ride the wave.

And then fall down.

Guess that makes surfing a metaphor for life. You’re riding along for a moment and then – down you go. Get up and it happens again.