The sea calls to my son

Anthony stands on the deck of Maine Maritime's ship, the Ned, and braves the sea mist and cool temperatures on Penobscot Bay.

Maine Maritime's pride and joy —the State of Maine.

The bow of the State of Maine in Castine, Maine.

1. 

A true mariner.

The Turret house in Bar Harbor, Maine.

“For whatever we lose (a you or a me). It's always ourselves we find in the sea.” 

― E.E. Cummings

CASTINE, Maine — Our young sailor is back on land after his short trip around Penobscot Bay.

Anthony was one of 16 lucky Edward Little High School students who took a whirlwind, two-day tour of colleges around northern Maine.

He thought it was a worthwhile endeavor to take a peek at Unity College and the College of Atlantic, but Maine Maritime Academy was at the top of his list, and the school certainly got his attention. The students were given deluxe accommodations at Maine Maritime and really good chow.

He was impressed with the school and felt right at home on the bow of a fast-moving ship that took EL students on a sight-seeing adventure around the bay on a murky day. With the help of other students and the crew of the Ned — a 70-foot, twin-screw vessel — Anthony took the helm and docked the boat.

Students were also given a tour of Maine Maritime's pride and joy — the State of Maine — a 499-foot training ship that was built by the United States Navy. Its former name was the USNS Tanner and was launched in 1990.

 I would be remiss in not thanking the Edward Little guidance department for making this trip possible for students. Say what you will about public education, but there are many dedicated teachers and administrators who go the distance for their students, and they work right here in Auburn.

You see, my son has been captivated by the sea ever since he waded in the cool waters of the Atlantic as a 2 year old. Our ancestry is filled with seafaring men who found their calling traveling the planet's vast oceans. Throughout our history, our family tree is littered with mariners and beachgoers. I grew up in the coastal town of Revere. The beach was our playground during the summer. We are all beach bums in this family.

During his brief visit, Anthony saw a stunning rainbow over Acadia National Park, a fjord, the awesome power of Thunder Hole, Fort George, the Turrets — a large home in Bar Harbor — and used a ship simulator to navigate computer-generated boats at Maine Maritime.

During his brief excursion on the Ned, he stood on the bow, braved the windy, salty air and called his dad from a cell phone. It was one of the best conversations we had.

His fascination with ships began with large plastic boats that he placed in the path of large waves at Popham Beach. He watched the destructive force of waves toss and turn his small vessels, sending many of them to the bottom.

His passion never waned for ocean-going vessels. He can name many of history's famous ships dating back to the 1400s.

He has built numerous models of warships and has walked the decks of fighting vessels at Battleship Cove. I even tried my hand at building a seaworthy, wooden ship so that he could sail it on the calm waters at Range Pond in Poland. It still floats.

We sailed his model ships at a crowded Wells Beach on a hot summer morning. As we waded through a sea of  beachgoers,  comments like, "Dude, cool ships," emanating from a crowd of sun worshipers as we rushed toward the water.

Look, sailing the seven seas can be a dangerous profession, but so isn't driving over the Tobin Bridge and into Boston or trying to stay alive on Route 128 at the height of rush hour in Massachusetts. But this is a good paying, honest job, and it won't go away no matter how many super computers they build. Somebody has got to run those ships and deliver all those goods around the globe.

Perhaps my son will be at the helm at one of those behemoths, but that will be his decision to make in a couple of years.

It is a wonderful feeling watching your kid find his passion in life, but it is also hard on the heart letting him go. But I wouldn't have it any other way. 

He was impressed with Maine Maritime and all it had to offer a student whose heart lies somewhere out there on that vast ocean.

The sea has been calling to Anthony since he was a child, and I think he is about to give the ocean his answer.

Surf's up

"We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch — we are going back from whence we came."

                                                — President John F. Kennedy

OLD ORCHARD BEACH — Anthony and I have always been on the same wavelength when it comes to the ocean's tumultuous surf.

You could say we enjoy making waves at the beach.

Before Anthony reached the age when building sand castles was no longer a priority, my son loved constructing forts made out of the beach's moist, white sand. He also spent hours watching his boats get tossed around in the surf. He studied how his toy vessels capsized by the force of waves.

A decade later and Anthony's fascination with waves continues, and he literally dives head first into the topic whenever we storm Maine's beaches.

Unlike a majority of beachgoers, this father-and-son team refuses to sit on the hot sand and baste in the sun. I understand this is America and its citizens are entitled to develop skin cancer, but for us, tanning is a damn waste of our precious time. You can get all the vitamin D you need while you are floundering in the heavy surf.

A soon as we find a spot on the beach, we disappear into the Atlantic's cold waters like a nuclear submarine and ride waves for hours. We only drag ourselves to dry land for a towel — or when our empty stomachs demand a sandwich and a cold drink — and the occasional trip to the men's room.

Old Orchard Beach was crowded on a steamy Saturday, and the sea was angry that day my friends. The storm that lingered over Maine for nearly a week moved off shore but was still stirring the pot out at sea, providing eye-opening waves and a powerful undertow at OOB.

The surf was up and the dynamic father-and-son duo threw themselves into the fray. The water was warm, towering waves were plenty and the hazy sun was strong. Conditions were perfect for two surfer dudes who wanted to take Old Orchard's monstrous waves out for a spin.

The ocean generated huge waves nearly every minute, but when one of these tsunamis came our way and blocked out the horizon — look out — because you were in for one helluva a ride. Anthony and I dove into the water just as these waves crested, driving us about 50 yards toward shore. The force was so rough that there were moments where we seemed lost and feeling punch drunk when we surfaced from the shallow water.

We ran toward each wave, hopping aboard each time for another reckless ride that sometimes drove us into the murky bottom of OOB. We were patient when a brief calm on the high seas interrupted our frenzy of body surfing. But when the Big Kahuna, and I am not referring to actor Cliff Robertson who starred in a "Gidget" movie, came barreling ashore, we leaped into the water for another lift.

It never gets old and each wave is a challenge.

Riding a monster of a wave is a privilege, and as you hear it roar over you when you are shot through the surf like a torpedo, there is this wonderful feeling that you have left the planet. For me, it is like an out-of-body experience even though this feeling of ataraxia lasts for a few moments.

For the next two hours, Anthony and I tackled wave after wave before exhaustion, humidity and an unrelenting sun drove all three weary surfers off the beach. We had enough, but we can never get enough of summer and Maine's spectacular beaches. 

I have been drawn to the sea since I rode waves at Revere Beach as a boy, and I believe I have passed on my love and respect of the ocean to my son, whose passion for the sea and all its wonders grows stronger each summer.