Once a year, more or less, Dorian Paskowitz would call me. Out of the blue, no agenda, just checking in. We met when I was the editor at SURFER, and talked a few times in my office there, but why he kept calling after I left the magazine I never really knew. Might have had something to do with me being Jewish—hardly, barely, totally non-practicing, but still. Maybe because I do old-guy banter pret...

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