The white stone lion on the curb stood head-high to me when I was 3 years old and tried to pry the marble ball from its snarling mouth.

“Watch out — he’s gonna bite!” my grandfather would say with a deep laugh as I jumped back. Then I’d take his big, warm hand and we’d walk past the high wall surrounding the lion’s house and take the right-of-way to the beach.

The public path continued atop the sea wall, passing the back lanai of the house. I’d stare up at the green-and-red flanges of the curved, templelike roof and wish I could go inside.

Last month I did, for the first time. Carrying cookies, kalua pig and cabbage, my husband, Don, and I crossed the shady garden to the oceanfront lanai where 30-plus members of the Tonggs Gang milled about, hailing one another, clapping shoulders, shaking hands and chugging beers beside tables heaped with food.

Willy Hawthorne had flown in from California and Donny and Dee Jay Mailer had come from Idaho. Donny stood near the entrance greeting new arrivals while Dee Jay circulated, taking care to speak with the quieter folks.

Back in junior high she had been a shy girl, along with me and Franny Brown White, who arrived later, on Hawaii time, with her heart-shaped smile.

Luckily we had name tags: There were folks I’d never met, including Randy Steiner and Ronnie Tongg from earlier chapters of the Tonggs Gang.

“I’m going to make the ahi carpaccio now,” said Annie Hope to her husband, Dale, who had lugged their grill from Palolo Valley and was getting ready to cook shutome steaks over kiawe coals.

It was 5 p.m. on a Kona-weather Sunday. Everyone looked stunned in the thick air and heavy, golden light as they spoke of their stoke at being back in the ’hood together. We had held reunions in Kapiolani Park, Kahala and Waimanalo but never here along the seawall.

From the lanai we could survey, laid out before us like a banquet on the reef, the surf breaks of our youth. We used to check them all lazy summer long from the lanai of our homes: the Hawthornes’, in the gingerbread houses by the right-of-way; the Neves’, halfway along the sea wall; and the Thurstons’ at the end, above the sand beach where, in 1959, high-rise condominiums replaced the house of the Tongg family for whom the break was named.

Ronnie said his father developed the condos but hadn’t kept one for the family. He shrugged, smiled and told us that during his youth there had been a Hawaiian fishpond at the beach.

At first, seeking a venue on the water, we had considered the nearby Outrigger Canoe Club, where some in our surf gang have been members since their youth. But others have never belonged there, and felt it would lack “the feel that we grew up with,” as Warren Ono said.

That was when Brian Chang asked his cousin if she’d lend us her house, which was between tenants, and she said yes.

As the sun set, Alika Neves walked out onto the sea wall where a vacation rental covered the lots that had once held four houses, including his family’s. He leaned against the rail for a moment, lost in thought.

“In the Lineup” features Hawaii’s oceangoers and their regular hangouts, from the beach to the deep blue sea. Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com or call 529-4772.