Dad is a Super Hero
Shortly after we
moved back to Pennsylvania, my Father took us to the Port
where the cargo ship he worked on was docked. During the
years that he worked as a Seaman he moved up quickly in the
ranks. He started as a dishwasher; then he graduated to a
lowly deck hand and eventually the ship’s navigator who was
fond of my Father and admired his work ethic. He noticed by
chance that my Dad possessed superior intelligence.
Unbeknownst to my Dad, he had an unusual aptitude for math,
mechanics and he had extraordinary spatial skills. He also
possessed a memory that allowed him to take in a variety of
complex information in just one session.
In his early years as a
deckhand, my Father happened to be hanging around the command
room and he saw that the navigator was using a Sextant and going
through various adjustments as he looked at the horizon, then
the sun and then he would make several mathematical calculations
and then he went to a chart and used a navigational compass and
a compass scribed with which he was able to determine exactly
what latitude and longitude that the cargo ship was locate on
our planet.
My father watched the
Navigator proceed through his complex ritual of calculations.
Curious, my father asked him what
he was doing and how he was actually able to determine where on
earth they were – literally.
The Navigator explained to
my father exactly what he was doing as he once again went
through his procedures. Then he invited my Father to try and
mimic what he had just done.
Much to the surprise of both my
Father and the Navigator, he was able to follow through with the
complex array of procedures with absolute accuracy.
The Navigator looked at my
Father with new respect and said, “What you have done is quite
remarkable!”
Incredulous, my father
said, “It is?”
The Navigator said, “You
have a much higher than average intelligence!”
Still incredulous, my
father said, “I do?”
The Navigator with paternal
interest in his new protégé said, “You ought to give serious
consideration to enrolling in the officer program.”
Basking in the warmth of
fraternal attention for perhaps the first time in his life my
Dad said, “I should?”
Evidently, the Navigator
brought my Dad’s freakish abilities to the attention of the
Captain and from then on both he and the Captain took a special
interest in my Father.
According to my Father they
both proved to be supportive mentors, encouraging him every step
of the way to apply for officers school, (I have often wished
that he had taken the interest in his children as his mentors
had done for him); nevertheless, it was from their guidance that
he learned how to be a navigator, then 3rd mate, then
2nd mate, then 1st mate and eventually he
became Captain – the youngest man ever to achieve this status
during peacetime.
Also according to my
Father, most of his test scores were some of the highest on
record at the academy and he graduated top of his class.
Yes, my father’s
intelligence and diligence had paid off; he had climbed fast and
high in the Merchant Marines and though he had made very good
money before my parents’ separation – he really raked in the
greenbacks afterward. (Many times over the years he would lament
that if only my mother would have been patient with his
progress, we would have all benefited from his acquired wealth -
if only she did not leave him).
Needless to say, I would
not learn about most of this information concerning my Father
for many years. As my Father took my siblings and I onto the
cargo ship – the U.S.S Calamari – we were filled with awe at its
enormous size. It was a complex structure of steel girders
bulkheads, a maze of narrow hallways, small cabins and
occasional portholes to look out at the water. Without my Father
guiding us through this maritime labyrinth I was sure I would be
lost forever in the bowels of the ship.
Eventually we made our way
to the helm – the central nervous system of the ship – It was
there where all of the charts were hanging conveniently on
bulkheads or laying rolled out on tables. It was there where we
saw the giant nautical steering wheel of the ship.
My Dad had us pretend that
we where steering the ship as we all took turns wearing his 1st
mates officers cap. We pretended to be Captains as we steered
the ship while peering at an imaginary mysterious and uncharted
horizon. In my mind I was once again Ulysses spending twenty
years searching for home.
We took many pictures of
course, many of which I still have to this day.
Finally, my Father wanted
us to meet his Captain – his mentor.
His name was Captain John and he greeted us politely as my
Father introduced each of us to him.
Suddenly, unexpectedly,
Captain John recounted a story describing what a brave hero my
Dad had proven to be. The out of the blue story without a normal
segueway made me uneasy. He regaled us with an incredible story
of the ship tossed violently in a vicious storm and taken on too
much water until the ship was lying on one side and on the verge
of sinking thereby drowning everyone one onboard that had not
made it to the lifeboats.
He told us that our Father
had volunteered to climb - like Spiderman – on a part of the
ship and open up a ballast that would equalized water and air
that would thereby cause the ship to regain its upright
position.
The Captain said that
despite the fact that the mission was extraordinarily dangerous
with the likelihood that my Father would fail and drown with 95%
certainty – my Father rushed in the face of danger – with as the
Captain explained, his customary daring-do!
We were all amazed of
course and proud of our Father’s bravery and super hero
abilities.
I looked over at my Father and I
noticed that he was doing his best to look modest, humble and
just a little embarrassed that Captain John was really heaping
on the accolades.
He was doing his best and
yet somehow it did not ring true.
We
were speechless.
The Captain shook our hands
and said it was a pleasure to meet his most prized crewman’s
children. Then he instructed my Father to come with him as he
instructed us to stay in the helm room.
My Brother and Sister and I
busied ourselves playing in the helm room… until finally I got
bored and wondered why my Dad was taking such a long time to
come back.
I
decided to go look for him while my siblings were content to
stay and play. I explored the hallway and found a stairwell and
meandered about until to my dismay, I realized I was lost.
I was on the verge of
bawling but then I heard two voices. One was loud – my Father’s
– the other voice was an indistinguishable mumble. Relief that I
was not lost forever in the bowels of the ship, I hurriedly
moved towards my Father’s voice.
Suddenly I knew that my
Father and Captain John having an intense conversation.
I peeked around the corner
and I could see Captain John was sitting behind his desk and my
Dad was standing before him like a underling being called on the
carpet for reprimanding.
“Vincenzo, what do you want
me to do? I have already told your kids about the story that you
wanted me to tell. I did my best to paint you as a hero as you
had asked me to do.”
“What more do you want of me?”
My Dad mumbled, “I just
want my kids to be proud of me, that’s all.”
“Well there is nothing more
that I can do. As a father the rest is up to you” Captain John
said empathically.
I felt a jab of shame and
unease.
Evidently my father had
conspired with the Captain to tell us this tall tale.
It was not clear to me if
the story was completely contrived; or an exaggeration or
perhaps even completely true, but still, a forced recounting by
my Dad’s boss.
I felt fear that my
discovery would be discovered by my Father, intuitively knowing
that he would not want me to be privy to what was being said; so
I skulked away as quickly and as quietly as I could.
Over the years, I have had
many occasions to ponder this incident and if I had to choose
whether the story of my Father’s act of selfless heroism was
true or not – I would say that it was true – exaggerated
perhaps, but in essence true.
What amazes me is that it
was important then to my Father for us to lookup and to admire
him, to be proud of him and his accomplishments. This has been
important to him all his life. He has bragged about his physical
exploits in sports; he has regaled us with the fights he has
won, or the giant men he fought regardless of the beating he
knew he would take. He has regaled us with the enormous
six-figure income that his company paid him to Captain their
ships (except during those occasions when someone question why
he failing to provide adequate financial support for his
children or to help with a college fund for my Sister).
He
loved to brag about the high life he lived and the important
powerful people he rubbed elbows with. He never tired of telling
his sons of the many women he fucked and how they enjoyed his
greatly endowed member and his unsurpassable sexual skill.
I have found it odd and
more than just a little bit frustrating that he craved to be
admired for all of these things; and yet, he was not concerned
in the least about doing any of the things that insure his
standing as a well-loved and powerful father.
It has sadly been apparent
to everyone that the little things that would have insured his
place in our hearts was simply too much effort for him or
perhaps would have taken more time than he wanted spend. He
could risk his life for his shipmates. He had the competence and
intelligence to surmount problems that most men could not, and
yet, giving honest regard and support and time and mentoring to
his children did not appeal to him.
Because of these undeniable
facts my relationship between my father and I have been
dismaying to say the least.
