All fathers seem larger than life when a child is very young and mine was no exception. It seemed like he led our family on its greatest adventures which usually centered around boats. My first sailing trip was in a dresser drawer on The Scamp, my great grandfather’s sailboat. We lived in Amityville, New York, the town in which my father grew up. My great grandfather and my grandmother lived on the Amityville River which afforded a covered boathouse with an internal marine railway for hauling out in the winter. This boathouse was a hangout for my father as a child, listening to the stories of his grandfather and his friends as they smoked their pipes and whittled half models. It smelled of oakum, tar, and linseed oil, the scent of my favorite tea, Lapsang Souchong. My father grew up immersed in the culture of Great South Bay which for him meant anything to do with, on, or around boats. He knew the south shore like the back of his hand and was eager to share it with his family, which eventually grew to four little onions. That was his name for us in fond times…his “onions”.
We soaked up his style, vocabulary, and talent with sailing and rowing. He taught us how to dive under the breakers in the Atlantic surf while Mom counted heads to see if we came up. He could walk on his hands down the beach. He towed us swimming the breaststroke with our arms around his neck. He showed us how to dig for clams with our toes in the shallow water where he had a secret bed. My Dad often hummed or whistled and had a smile on his face out on the water. Tamping down his pipe filled with the tobacco in the blue package, he’d survey his “onions” rowing and sailing with a competence he never questioned. He was happiest in this world of ocean and we thrived in it too.
When children learn skills at their parents’ side, it transfers the deeper attitudes towards life in general. We also learned optimism, and a strong work ethic. We learned classical music and Broadway musicals without knowing…..they were in the background but in the fabric of every day. My mother taught us the practical stuff and my father provided the romance. He also was “true blue.” This exacting sense of doing the right thing by others was bone deep and his strongest moral principle.
My brother and I spent numerous days out cod fishing with him as our older siblings found our lobster boat less thrilling and our mom stayed home. This special time with him was his way of getting away from the stress of the corporate world. My brother and I were rascals and poor fishermen. Instead we horsed around in the dinghy one cold fall day off of Children’s Island (Marblehead, A) and swamped it. My Dad quickly raised anchor and came to our aid. The chilly water was debilitating. He never yelled, just stripped off our wet clothes, wrapped us in scratchy wool blankets, and made us swig a shot of scotch. We didn’t say a word through blue guilty lips. We stayed in our bunks until the mooring buoy an hour later. Our punishment was disappointing my father. He was worried about hypothermia and we were worried about losing our good standing in his eyes. That is how it should be….he earned our deepest respect, love, energy, and hard work….that was my father and by the way, he gave a fabulous bear hug.
We soaked up his style, vocabulary, and talent with sailing and rowing. He taught us how to dive under the breakers in the Atlantic surf while Mom counted heads to see if we came up. He could walk on his hands down the beach. He towed us swimming the breaststroke with our arms around his neck. He showed us how to dig for clams with our toes in the shallow water where he had a secret bed. My Dad often hummed or whistled and had a smile on his face out on the water. Tamping down his pipe filled with the tobacco in the blue package, he’d survey his “onions” rowing and sailing with a competence he never questioned. He was happiest in this world of ocean and we thrived in it too.
When children learn skills at their parents’ side, it transfers the deeper attitudes towards life in general. We also learned optimism, and a strong work ethic. We learned classical music and Broadway musicals without knowing…..they were in the background but in the fabric of every day. My mother taught us the practical stuff and my father provided the romance. He also was “true blue.” This exacting sense of doing the right thing by others was bone deep and his strongest moral principle.
My brother and I spent numerous days out cod fishing with him as our older siblings found our lobster boat less thrilling and our mom stayed home. This special time with him was his way of getting away from the stress of the corporate world. My brother and I were rascals and poor fishermen. Instead we horsed around in the dinghy one cold fall day off of Children’s Island (Marblehead, A) and swamped it. My Dad quickly raised anchor and came to our aid. The chilly water was debilitating. He never yelled, just stripped off our wet clothes, wrapped us in scratchy wool blankets, and made us swig a shot of scotch. We didn’t say a word through blue guilty lips. We stayed in our bunks until the mooring buoy an hour later. Our punishment was disappointing my father. He was worried about hypothermia and we were worried about losing our good standing in his eyes. That is how it should be….he earned our deepest respect, love, energy, and hard work….that was my father and by the way, he gave a fabulous bear hug.
No comments:
Post a Comment