Father Time

A newborn baby inspires Graham Ezzy to reflect on his life as a father and son, as the Ezzy windsurfing dynasty continues to grow.

- Graham Ezzy

After having my first baby last December, I often think about fatherhood and about my father. My earliest memories of him are all linked to windsurfing. When I was two, before my brother was born, back in the days before RDM’s, when masts broke and when no one we knew had a cell phone, there would be evenings where the sun had already set and my dad was still not home. Earliest memories, like all memories, are like dreams: I recall the dark hour of evening where the sun has set but the house lights are not yet on, my mother’s worry electric in the air, ears tuned to the expectant crunch of the gravel driveway. After many false starts, looking out the window to see if that really was his truck driving in, my dad would finally arrive home. His black curly hair damp and his skin salty, having come offthe water only a few minutes before. He would tell stories of waves bigger than houses, swimming against currents and hiking over rocks for the trek back to his car at Ho’okipa. He was 33 then, 5 years older than I am now.

CALLING

After my brother and sister were born, my memories of my father are still linked with windsurfing and the beach. The passive act of having sunscreen applied quickly and efficiently with hard hands calloused by decades of windsurfing. Somehow there were always grains of sand in the SPF, and this gritty rubdown was the ritual to start a day at the beach. A day at the beach for most people means vacation. Vacation, from the Latin vacare, “to be unoccupied”. But for my father, the beach was windsurfing, which was an occupation. And more than an occupation, windsurfing was a vocation. Vocation, from the Latin vocare, “to call,” as in a calling.