Of the Sea

In June we celebrate Father’s Day.

My last name is Italian in origin, Sicilian specifically, and means “of the sea”. I am fortunate to have known both of my grandfathers into my 30’s. I spent most of my life living within 5 miles of them. I am also incredibly lucky to be very close with my own father, who I love and respect beyond measure.

My maternal grandfather was a lieutenant commander in the Navy, who completed the very first Navy Seal training ever. He was 100% Irish, the first of his 6 brothers to be born in America, and ran well into his 80’s. He was a high school English teacher and his favorite book was “The Cruel Sea”. I have memories of him from family vacations up in Maine, returning from beach runs smelling of the sea, clean sweat and coppertone. I felt privileged when I could finally join him running the beach when I got older. He would run to my family’s beach house to pick me up. We would run slowly and steadily, side by side, not speaking a word to one another. Then, I would drop off when we returned to my house and he would continue on home. He was a force.

My paternal grandfather Marino’s family was from Pachino, Sicily, which is located at the southernmost tip of the island. My grandfather loved pasta with mussles and seafood with unmatched passion. He was always trying to feed me and my cousins when we visited and would not relent until we agreed to try whatever delicious snack he had for us. When I visited Sicily last year, Marzamemi (a small area of Pachino) became my favorite place I have ever been. There were salt flats, flamingos, tiny fishing huts and a huge, old tuna processing warehouse. My love for the sea made even more sense to me, as I stood surrounded by water at the tip of the island…and so did my grandfather Marino’s passion for seafood.

One of my earliest memories is of my father’s family up at their summer beach house in Rye, NH. My father, his siblings and my older cousin all walked to the end of the street to the beach. I believe I was 13 months old and remember the feeling that this was something that they had all done many times before but I had no idea what was about to happen. When we approached the beach, I was in awe of the ocean. My father ran into the water and my mother soothed my anxiety as I watched him dive in and disappear head first into what looked like a monstrosity of a wave. When he emerged, I remember feeling the impression of his bravery and strength. Nowadays, one of my favorite ways to spend the day is fishing with him on his boat in the summer. We listen to music, eat snacks and rest in the sun while we wait for a catch.

My parents had a beach house in Maine when I was younger and it was a slice of heaven. Arriving on Fridays, we would all gather on the beach for sunset bocce. Falling asleep with the windows open to the sound of the waves and the damp salty air is an impression that will never leave me. Family would gather on the weekends and we had volleyball tournaments, boat rides and fire pits. Those were the days, as the saying goes.

As an adult, I chose to move to a town where I had access to the beach. I can’t imagine not being near the ocean. My cousin and I still go for early spring ocean dips, which my maternal great-grandmother used to call “the cure”. I’ll never say no to an evening dip on a hot summer night followed by an ice cream. The ocean makes everything better.

This Fathers’ Day I am celebrating the strong and brave men in my life who have loved, guided, supported, encouraged, protected, provided and shown me how to be the person who I have become. My connection to my name and the Sea comes from these fathers of mine and grounds me in my identity.

Wishing you and the men in your life a very Happy Father’s Day.