The surf breaks at Tonggs and Rice Bowls are easy to access through a public beach right-of-way, but a lack of public showers causes a ripple effect through the neighborhood.

After paddling in, some Tonggs surfers rinse off with bottles of water they keep in their cars. Others walk 2 1/2 blocks, carrying their boards, to the showers at Makalei Beach Park.

But many surfers simply help themselves to the hose on Lou’s front lawn.

They take their time, showering themselves and rinsing both sides of their boards. After all, it’s on someone else’s dime.

Most of them have never even met Lou, a tall, tanned 86-year-old with a wild shock of white hair who stays indoors in his high-roofed historic house during the heat of the day. A gregarious soul, he can be seen out in front, raking, trimming and sweeping and chatting with the neighbors and passers-by every morning and late afternoon.

When he encounters strangers showering on his lawn, Lou exhorts them, in his kindly way, to direct the spray at the grass, not through his window onto his television, and to coil up the hose and turn the faucet off when they’re pau.

Lou and his wife, Josette, moved into their house in 1970 and raised their two children here. Originally from Philadelphia, Lou fell in love with the Hawaiian sea and still swims every day. I used to see him standing on the reef with a spoon, eating the flesh of a sea urchin straight from the shell.

My brother was their son’s best friend, but he and I never used their hose after surfing, although they invited us to do so. Although it was tempting, we had to walk only two blocks to our own hose, and we didn’t want to be counted among those who took advantage of their aloha.

In his 40s, Lou took up bodyboarding to keep an eye on their son in the waves, he told Josette. Soon, oblivious to personal peril, he was charging the big Tonggs lefts.

Josette, a fair-skinned, blond Frenchwoman, did a little exercising and dog walking in the shady park but avoided the beach. She mostly stayed indoors, cooking up gourmet feasts and entertaining their many friends.

When she got sick about five years ago, Josette began to withdraw, but Lou wouldn’t let her become a recluse.

In the cool of the evenings, he would entice her outside to sit with him on beach chairs on their lawn.

As you approached from either end of the block, you’d see Josette’s slipper-clad feet and long, elegant legs extending past the hedges.

They’d smile and wave at passers-by.

There were always a few extra chairs, filled with neighbors who stopped to chat, sitting side by side, all in a line.

I thought of it as Lou’s lineup.

Before she died, a year ago, Josette was spending more and more time in the hospital with Lou by her side. The lawn looked empty, but not neglected.

One evening I saw Kainoa, one of the surfing regulars, sweeping the sidewalk and raking dead leaves in their yard. He filled their green bin and rolled it out to the curb.

When the trades pick up after sundown on a hot day, you’ll still find Lou sitting at the edge of his lawn, talking and laughing with his family and friends.

It reminds me of an original surfers’ meaning for “lineup”: It’s the landmarks you use to get your bearings and make sure you aren’t drifting away. It’s where you know you’re in the right place.

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