My father, Dwain Kantor, kneeling on the right, Air Force on a bomber over Germany. They got shot down, everyone had to jump out the bombay doors with a parachute, while the plane, hit and on fire, was going down. They were all captured and lived in a POW camp until the end of World War II. It was my father who liked the beach, who was a body-surfer (before surfing) in good ol’ San Diego, land of nothing but beaches and surf, who took me and my brothers to the beach when we were just pups. Born into it because my father survived World War II.
