Sam
Sam’s Grandfather had been a working man, and as it turns out, was a friend and neighbor to my own. He had returned to the Gulf Coast as a war hero for shooting down a Japanese Zero at Pearl Harbor, and for pulling several other sailors from the burning wreckage of his ship.
The town of Gulf Shores, Alabama was, at that moment in time, virgin beach. There were a few cottages along the shore, and one diner called Hazel’s. Two small grocery and tackle shops kept the fisherman stocked. One was a block from the beach, and the other on the north side of the Inter-coastal Canal by the draw bridge that was the only entry way to the beach.
This quiet, untouched town had increasingly come under the attention of cities like Montgomery and Birmingham, and the well-to-do were beginning to dream of beach getaways on the sugar white sand. Sam’s grandfather saw an opportunity and started a small construction company. In the first few years, he built several houses, a bank, and the club house for Gulf Shores’ first golf course. He also built and lived in the cottage in the woods.
Sam’s father had grown up on the job site, and probably would have continued in the business if it weren’t for the Gulf of Mexico. He was constantly aware of it’s presence, and when he was near the water, could not take his eyes from the far horizon. It fascinated him, terrorized him, and called to him. So, in time, he went to sea.
This meant that Sam, when he came along, was destined to a vagabond life, moving from coast to coast, and port to port, spending months at home with his mother and brothers, while his father sailed the world. I suppose this sort of life could make a person feel homeless or rootless, but instead it gave the family a sense that they were citizens of the world. His father would send home long letters telling stories of all his ports of call, from Japan, Africa, India, and the Mediterranean. All these exotic places were alive in Sam’s mind. When his father was at home, he was always bringing new acquaintances to dinner. “This is my new friend, Abdul. He is from Turkey!” Before the night was out they would all be singing Turkish songs.
Sam’s mother would make each new move an adventure. No sooner had they put boxes down in a new house, and they would begin to explore the town. In no time, she would turn their house into the hub of activity for all the neighborhood children, so while there may have been some awkward first weeks (Sam was the “new kid in school” eleven times), he would never be without friends for long.
This was now the age of television, but it had not encroached on family life just yet. Their first set was a small black and white that sat in a back room in the house. In later years it would turn colors and make it’s way into the living room, pulling everyone under its spell. But for now, days were spent, from morning to night, outside. While there were some rules for the brothers, like a curfew, they were, for the most part, wild and free.
There was one family ritual about which Sam’s mother was unbending. Dinner. Every single night, with few exceptions, the entire family gathered, not at the kitchen table where breakfast and lunch were served, but in the dining room. It was a semi-formal affair, and the boys were expected to at least wear shirts and shoes. The gathering would begin with cocktails (ginger ale with a maraschino cherry for the brothers), then everyone would move to the table. I could see that Sam’s vesper ritual had been ingrained in him from childhood.
It was here, Sam would say, that amidst the chaos and movement of living, his family was formed, and their ties deepened. Each person would retell the stories of the day, and while there was a great deal of teasing, even the youngest members were given everyone’s full attention. It was the sort of family where each member knew that they mattered, and yet at the same time, knew that they were part of something bigger than themselves. An integral part, but of a whole. The teasing only served to remind a person that while he or she was loved, they were not going to be allowed to be the center of attention for too long. It was a home that fostered the growth of individuals, but individuals who were linked forever to others. Sam still talks to his parents, and one or two of his brothers, every day.
Through his school years, he was a bright, but unimpressive student, and a decent, but uninspired athlete. For the most part, it was because his mind was elsewhere. He could not have articulated this then, but Sam was ingrained with a sense that the world held more than the eye could see. As a child this made him a daydreamer. As he grew older, it became something else.
Sam, like his father, loved the sea. But whereas his father was drawn to it as an adventure, Sam was haunted by it. Sam was not just gazing at the horizon, but beyond it. He knew he was flesh and blood, and shared a robust love of life and pleasure with all his family and friends. But he began to know that he was also soul or spirit. And he knew that there were dark things in the universe, and even inside himself. More and more, these thoughts took hold of his mind.
Nowadays I’m sure they would just write it off as depression, but for several months after Sam entered the university, he would lie awake at night full of fear. The dawn would seem to brush the thoughts away, and he would go about his business, but they would return each night. It became a torment, as if all the things he loved and held dear were going to be swallowed up by, and this was his word, evil.
On most nights when he couldn’t sleep, he would rise, slip out of the dorm, and walk. The weather didn’t matter. It was the only thing that would ease his mind. On one of these walks, when it was close to dawn, something changed. He was seized by a thought, and he froze in his tracks. He couldn’t tell you if it was a gift from beyond the horizon, or just a thought in his own head, but it startled and amazed him. “But, there is love in the world.” It seemed to him that this thought was answering all his fears. “But, there is love in the world.” Could it be that there was a love that was bigger than war, poverty, hatred, and violence? That there was a love that could perhaps swallow evil? And in that moment, that love took possession of Sam.