Most of us have been there, on one side or the other. It’s a big ocean, but it can be crowded, and let’s face it, surfing takes up a lot of room. You need a particular kind of wave, and if things go right, hundreds of feet of empty to make a nice run.

So sometimes there’s a certain amount of frustration when someone pops up where you don’t want them.

Seen from the other side, maybe you’re just trying to enjoy a nice time at the beach, take a quick jump in the ocean – which belongs to everybody, right? – and suddenly there’s some surfer yelling at you. He was about a half a block away a minute ago.

Or you want to get started on this whole surfing thing yourself, and what better way than to get in the water where all the surfers congregate? Only when you get out there, it becomes clear most of the surfers would rather you took up knitting and left the break entirely.

But that’s not how it always goes.

It takes a little generosity, and a bit of patience. It takes kindness, and sometimes it can lead to a connection that can last a lifetime, or beyond.

“It’s one of those things when you see a young kid going out into the ocean to surf for the first time,” said Mike Meyer. He said you can just tell – in part by the way someone moves the board – but also because in the small surf scene in Avalon, you pretty much know everybody already.

You try to pass on a few tips, Meyer said: “Watch the pilings … Get over some … This is where it’s peaking.”

That young surfer was Brendan Borek, a local kid who was into just about everything: art, ice and street hockey, soccer, and plenty else.

But surfing became his passion.

He and a group of friends from school were soon regulars in the waves, surfing whenever possible. He was on a surf team. For 10 years, Meyer and other Avalon surfers watched him grow up. They saw a boy with a bright future.

“He was one of those kids where you know they’re going to have a positive effect. He was very selfless,” Meyer said.

That was before Borek got sick. He was diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare form of cancer. Family members say he kept hope and fought bravely, but it was not easy.

Meyer said he noticed Borek had not been in the waves. When he found out he was in the hospital, he said, it broke his heart.

“When they told me that, I went around the island and got all his friends and we went up to Children’s Hospital,” he said. Brendan’s mother, Lydia Borek, was understandably skeptical about a grown man visiting her son, he said. They put surf wax on his feet, brought sand from the beach and packed the room.

“We generally just trashed the room. We got him to just laugh and smile,” he said.

The local teen surfers all knew each other, and all knew Borek. The local surf shop supported him, as did his many friends.

“What a pile of little lunatics. It was great,” said Meyer. “Kids need a passion. They chose surfing.”

They would great each other with “High tides” when the conditions are the best at 30th Street.

For Borek’s 18th birthday in 1990, a bunch of his friends had the idea of doing something special. It grew into a surf contest and a beef and beer. Those that were there said Borek was shocked when 80 surfers turned out and his family received the proceeds.

Brendan Borek died in 1991. Soon after, his family launched the Brendan Borek High Tides Memorial Fund to help local families with children facing cancer. The surf contest remained the central event, but more events were added until there was a week of activities culminating on Saturday with the contest and a homecoming party after.

Lydia Borek said that while treatments can be extraordinarily expensive, few people realize the other strains an illness can put on a family’s finances, while at the same time putting on an extreme emotional strain.

Typically, if there are two parents, one leaves work to become a full- time caretaker. Then there are travel expenses and lodging when local families head to Philadelphia for treatment, tutoring for kids who can’t go to school, and myriad other costs. Meanwhile, the rent or mortgage, the car payment, the grocery bills keep coming, same as ever.

Brendan’s Fund helps with those expenses. Over the past 21 years, some of the children the fund has helped have gotten better, some did not. The organization continues, and the surf contest, now known as “the Brendan,” is an Avalon tradition.

According to Meyer, it’s about as big as it can get and still work, because there can only be so many heats in a day. He has been involved with the event every year since the start. At noon each year, the participants paddle out for the circle of friends ceremony, remembering those who have passed.

“On the beach, there are thousands of people who are just dead silent. It’s kind of powerful,” he said.

So far, they have always had waves, he said. And it’s always a good scene, with plenty of fun, but everyone also remembers what the contest is about, he said.

“Everybody knows what we’re there for. We are there to help each other, to carry each other,” Meyer said. “What happened to Brendan could happen to any one of us there on the beach, and if it did, we’d be there to help each other.”

The contest runs from 6 a.m.-4 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 20 at the 30th Street beach in Avalon. Registration must be done beforehand online, and even with hundreds of slots, it’s probably full up for this year. But there’s plenty of room on the beach, and the homecoming fiesta is set for Community Hall, with $10 admission and a cash bar.

Last year, a lot of Borek’s surfing friends came back for the event, which is always something of a reunion. Those friends are spread out all over the country now, but Meyer said they are all still surfing, and now many have kids of their own.

Some of the locals who have gone pro have also turned out, including Matt Keenan and Mikey Ciaramella.

Meyer lives in Lansdale, Pa., but spends much of his time in Avalon. He said he is part shoobie, part local. He expects to remain involved in the surf contest and with Brendan’s Fund. It’s tough, seeing what people can go through, he said, but worth it.

“It tears a hole in your heart. In the same breath, it’s one of the most enriching experiences, to see how lucky we are,” he said. It also shows how much someone can do. “You don’t know what power you have to help other people until you start.”

Avalon has backed the contest in a big way, he said, both from the town and from the entire community.

“High tides,” Meyer said.