The surf’s been firing this autumn. I was getting so many waves — and so many scares, on the bigger days — that I was approaching burnout on a recent night when the TV weatherman warned of more big surf for the South Shore.

I turned to Don. “I’m over surf,” I said.

“That’s good!” he said with relief, for we had lately made a pact to be more cautious: Boomers are young in spirit, but our bodies? Not so much. Take my sky-blue, vintage Charles Jourdan 3-1/2-inch heels, snagged for $5 at a pre-holiday charity sale. They were to die for — literally, I realized, when I tried to walk in them.

Still, I checked the surf early the next morning, and hala! It was one of those windows with near-glassy conditions and waves that are big enough to be challenging but not life-threatening (although you can die in waves of any size).

Don saw me getting out my surfboard, but didn’t say anything.

As I paddled out the tide was falling, the sunlight dancing on the water, light winds pulling the waves like silk over the reef.

When an outside bomb rolled in, I was in position and everyone yelled, “Go!”

“Perfect!” Win yelled as I stroked into it, and then of course I wiped out. The next wave kicked up a thin, fast, inside peak. Still filled with adrenaline, I wheeled and caught it, riding the crisp, clean sections all the way to the reef.

“I saw you catch that insider,” Win said later. “You were surfing like a grom!”

An ace surfer who’s lately, it seems, been on a campaign to bolster my aging self-esteem, Win described my ride, turn by turn, as he’d watched it from the back. “I could see the bottom of your board through the wave!”

The divinity student, sitting nearby in the lineup, smirked. “But he didn’t catch it on his GoPro!”

“I’ll remember it better this way,” I said.

Divinity squinted at me. “Come again?”

“You’ve heard of the oral tradition?”

“Hunh?” His religious studies, apparently, had skipped “The Odyssey,” “The Kumulipo” and the Sermon on the Mount.

These days, of course, nothing really happens if it’s not recorded on video.

We’re forgetting how to listen and give shape in our imaginations to what we hear.

In the Hawaiian, ancient Greek, early Christian and other oral traditions, stories were told for generations and some eventually written down. In the oral tradition of surf video, I’ve heard narrators praising the way some surfers read waves.

Wondering what else surfers were reading, I asked a few local wave riders about the books by their bedsides.

Carissa Moore, a three-time world champion, said she’s into “Inspired: Pursuit of Progress” by Olympic snowboarder Kelly Clark.

Another champion surfer, Fred Hemmings, author, most recently, of “Local Boy: A Memoir,” recently finished “Letters of a Nation: A Collection of Extraordinary American Letters,” edited by Andrew Carroll.

Alika Neves, a member of our Tonggs surf gang during our teens, was finishing “The French Revolution” by Albert Mathiez. “It’s an out-of-print PAPERBACK that cost me $70! I guess I will never change from kid time,” said Neves, who often elected to read in his hammock rather than surf.

The author of “Surf Is Where You Find It,” Gerry Lopez, is enjoying “How to Change Your Mind” by Michael Pollan. His fellow Pipeline ace Jock Sutherland recommends “When Things Fall Apart” by Pema Chodron.

Karin Amimoto Ingersoll, author of “Waves of Knowing,” is simultaneously reading “Exit West” by Mohsin Hamid and “Becoming Wise” by Krista Tippett.

William Finnegan, whose Pulitzer Prize-winning “Barbarian Days” includes formative experiences at Kaimuki Intermediate School and in the waves of Diamond Head, just finished “Kudos” by Rachel Cusk. His all-time favorite, added Finnegan, whose memoir recounts his surf- and soul-searching odysseys, is “Ulysses” by James Joyce.

Halfway through “Killing Commendatore” by Haruki Murakami, I’m thinking that, when the surf goes flat, our lineup could be perfect for a book group.

“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.