BYRON DE ARAKAL -- Between the Lines

You come to realize the longer you hitch a ride on this planet that

traditions, ultimately, are so much dust in the wind. Some traditions are

simply blips in time. Mere fads masquerading as traditions. They crash

and burn or simply vanish without fanfare. The more meaningful

conventions we entertain often hang around for several generations.

That’s because they lend -- but only lend -- our families and communities

stability and security in a world that is otherwise plagued by

transition. But even the spars that hold these traditions aloft fail with

time and the gnawing of distraction. Then one day you turn around and

they’re no longer there.

Witness what we have going on with two venerable traditions of our

twin cities -- the Newport Harbor Christmas Boat Parade and the Costa

Mesa Fish Fry. Each of these stalwarts of Newport-Mesa have recently come

under some buffeting that, probably, most will dismiss without much sense

of danger. But for rank sentimentalists like me who are hypersensitive to

time’s persistent march, I don’t like what I’m seeing.

Beginning in 1978, when my folks moved to Balboa Island from Orange,

grabbing a front-row seat on the Island’s north wall for the Boat Parade

has pretty much been an annual place holder in my family’s holiday

traditions. Save for those occasional years when some cranky virus

partied in our home the week before Christmas, my wife and I have caddied

our four children to channel’s edge to witness the event that they placed

in the same league with visitations to Santa’s workshop. For my sons --

now 14 and 12 -- the luster of the event has dimmed a watt or two, but

they still enjoy it. My little girls are still dazzled.

Over the years my wife and I have taken in the boat parade aboard the

Wild Goose, from the windows of the Villa Nova, the Rusty Pelican and

Josh Slocums. But still our favorite spot remains the north wall at the

end of Pearl Avenue, and the parade is our tranquil harbor from the great

sea changes that seem to come with advancing age.

But for how long? For in recent days we find the Newport Harbor Area

Chamber of Commerce -- the backers of this great tradition -- noodling on

hair-brained ideas for curtailing the event. Some are peddling the notion

that the Boat Parade will become a better thing if the parade route is

trimmed. Others argue that its seven-day run is a bit too lengthy and

should be pared some. It’s this kind of tinkering with tradition that

signals the beginning of a slow march to the gallows for the institutions

in our lives.

The Costa Mesa Fish Fry -- the city’s last real connection to its

Rockwellian roots as it plunges headlong toward urbanism -- is the other

grand tradition in town that shows signs of withering. More than a

half-century old and sponsored by the Costa Mesa Lions Club, the Fish Fry

has been a living museum of Americana in Costa Mesa. It has the cotton

candy and the beauty contest, the cheesy carnival rides and the talent

shows, the candied apples and those fabulous heart-clogging chunks of

deep-fried Cod.

But it also used to feature a parade with high school bands, and the

mayor and Miss Costa Mesa in open-top cars riding down Harbor Boulevard.

That part of it has long since died and seems to be missed by few.

Traditions die that way.

Now we learn the whole shootin’ match is in danger thanks to a lawsuit

brought by a woman who needs to watch where she’s walking, and because of

some penny-pinching risk manager with the Coast Community College

District. Apparently, 53-year-old Irvine resident Arlene Wolff snapped an

ankle when she stumbled over a curb at Orange Coast College last June 3.

Wolff, according to her lawsuit, was attending an Apple Computer Exhibit

at the college then stopped in at the Fish Fry. While heading to her car,

she stumbled over a curb and broke her ankle.

It isn’t for me to begrudge Wolff’s $80,000 claim, although I’m not

sure an ankle is worth that much. But Orange Coast College gets a big fat

raspberry in my book for attempting to pawn the claim off on the Lions

Club, which in turn has placed this year’s Fish Fry in danger.

Apparently, the rich heritage of the Costa Mesa Fish Fry is worth far

less than 80 grand to the Coast Community College District. That’s too

bad.

Does all of this mean we need to plant the lilies, press the black

suit and polish the hearse for these two fine traditions of our

Newport-Mesa community? Not this year. Nor probably the next or the next.

But I do lament that these defining community events may have begun their

fade as all traditions do.

And to no one’s particular notice. Until, of course, we find ourselves

some out year from now saying, “Remember when...”

* BYRON DE ARAKAL is a writer and communications consultant. He lives

in Costa Mesa. His column runs Wednesdays. Readers can reach him with

news tips and comments via e-mail at o7 [email protected] .