Robert Browman

Note: I wrote the following essay while I was living in New York City. A slightly edited version, along with the accompanying picture by Bob Croslin, ran as the showcase piece on the front page of the St. Petersburg Times on Father’s Day, June 15, 2003.

Photo by Bob Croslin

Three weeks ago I introduced my 20-month-old son David to one of the great loves of my life. From the time I was a small child growing up in and around the waters of South Florida I have had a life-long romance with the sea. My love for the water has taken me on countless surf trips up and down both Florida coasts and on adventure-filled surf treks to exotic lands.

I never feel more alive than when I am in the sea, and for years the ocean was one of the driving forces in my life. While my friends dreamed of becoming doctors, lawyers or businessmen, my career goals centered on things like lifeguard, boat captain or surfboard shaper.

I do not remember exactly when the switch happened, but at some point, other ambitions took over and I followed them to new places. These days, instead of the warm sand and salty surf, I find myself surrounded by the pulse and energy of the New York City streets.

Not long after my son was born, I began to feel the water calling me back, making me yearn to hear the rolling surf and be surrounded by the ebb and flow of the tides. A recent visit to family and friends allowed me the opportunity to share my old friend the ocean with my son, and my son with the ocean.

When David stepped into the water for the first time, he bravely stared out towards the horizon, hanging on to my hand for support and at the same time pulling away from me towards deeper water.

My wife was amazed at David’s reaction to the ocean. After playing in it for a while we brought him back to our blanket, but as soon as his feet hit the sand he turned and ran as fast as he could right back to the water. We couldn’t keep him away. The ocean was like a magnet pulling him in.

As I stood in the shallow water holding David’s hand, I felt the intense bond between father and son, and son and the ocean. I realized that if I let go of his hand — as I inevitably will have to do one day — he would pull away towards that which was tugging at his soul. In that moment, I recognized in my son the same adventurous spirit I had when I was younger.

I stood there facing that vast body of water and thought that if the ocean allowed me one wish, it would be that David gives in to his true, youthful spirit longer than I did mine.