Children with autism 'find peace' surfing in OC
Liam Malacas let out a piercing scream.
He kicked and wriggled as a set of skilled hands hoisted him into the air.
He was dragged toward the water, his cries muffled by the sound of the waves.
To someone watching, the scene looked grim, perhaps.
But Malacas was perfectly safe and exactly where he was supposed to be.
In fact, his parents were close by watching everything unfold for Liam, and their 6-year-old son Aiden.
They were smiling and waving — cheering on their autistic, 3-year-old son while tears streamed down their faces.
"It's OK Liam," his mother Alona Malacas said. "It's OK baby."
Breakthrough
The Malacas' brought their son to Ocean City on Wednesday, Aug. 17, for a special reason.
Not to watch him cry out in distress but to see him do something he has never done before — surf.
They traveled from Baltimore to Ocean City to participate in a surfing camp with a simple message.
"We take kids with autism surfing," said Israel "Izzy" Paskowitz, professional surfer and co-founder of Surfers Healing.
Paskowitz and his wife, Danielle, created the nonprofit 20 years ago, after they experienced a breakthrough with their own autistic son, Isaiah.
"He was having a meltdown, and I threw him into the ocean," he said. "When his head popped back up, he was different. He was smiling."
Paskowitz watched the transformation, time and time again, in Isaiah.
"There is something powerful about the weightlessness of floating, the lightness of riding a wave — it's therapeutic," he said.
Since the family's breakthrough in 1996, Surfers Healing has grown across the world.
The nonprofit now works with nearly 5,000 autistic children around the world, puts them on a surfboard with a pro surfer, and lets the magic happen.
"Surfing isn't a cure for autism, believe me," he said. "But you'd be surprised at the difference a day at the beach can make."
"It's like they find peace"
More than 100 families participated in this year's local surf camp, held at 37th Street in Ocean City.
Kat Trammel, co-chairwoman of the Ocean City chapter, said the power of the event never ceases to amaze her. She created the local camp, featuring surfing sessions, free food, arts and crafts, music and games with Woody German and Kelly and Dale Loeser seven years ago.
Together, they've helped hundreds enjoy a day at the beach.
The two are hoping to expand the event from one day to two, depending on the availability of the surfers, many of which travel from New Zealand, Australia, California, Hawaii and other places around the world.
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Laura Mazza's 8-year-old son Jude, has participated for the last three years.
"He absolutely loves it," she said. "And I love it, too. It's wonderful getting to watch him light up out there."
The event helps Mazza and her family feel normal by allowing them to relish in a day without fear and anxiety, and potential judgment from others.
"Here, you are surrounded by people who truly get what you're going through," she said. "It's like we're all reading the exact same book of life, we're just on different pages and adding in our own chapters. It's incredibly uplifting."
The families aren't the only ones who feel it.
Ask anyone who has experienced Surfers Healing, whether as a participant, volunteer or a spectator, and they are likely to tell you that there is something truly magical that happens.
Rob Tinus, a local surfer from Bishopville, knew it the moment he saw the camp in action seven years ago. He has been volunteering ever since.
"I just knew I had to be a part of it," he said. "Surfers Healing is a beautiful thing."
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Tinus describes the annual event as one of the most fun and rewarding he's ever experienced.
However, dragging a screaming kid into the water isn't always easy, but the payoff is more than worth it.
"Your heart feels for them," he said. "They are literally fighting you to get away. But when you get out there with them, the tension disappears. They stop yelling, they stop clenching their fists and they become calm.
"It's like they find peace."
Getting out is the hardest part
Alona and RJ Malacas stood on the beach holding one another.
Their son, Liam, was no longer screaming.
Instead, he was smiling, perched on top of a volunteer surfer's shoulders.
The crowd cheered as the pair rode into shore, and Liam reluctantly set foot on solid ground.
He was presented with a small golden trophy. He inspected it, held it triumphantly in the air and ran toward his parents.
"I was worried," Alona Malacas said. "But I'm glad we did this. We're never going to forget what they gave us today."
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