When I was young, our family owned and lived on a farm in the eastern pan handle of West Virginia. That farm had been passed down through generations of my fathers family for over 200 years. Some of my earliest memories are of life on the farm, particularly with my brothers. We lived in a revolutionary war era farm house heated by a coal furnace in the basement with fireplaces throughout. There was Spring House where we got water and kept vegetables cool year round. There were shops, garages and a smokehouse. We had a large barn, cattle, horses, pigs, chickens, goats and a big collie named ‘Jeb’.
Farm life is hard and having a big family like ours is expensive. My father had a ‘day job’ that kept him traveling during the week. He came home on weekends to work the farm. I did not appreciate it then, but looking back I am in awe that my parents could keep it and us going. It also explains why we sold the family farm and essentially moved to the city.
For the next five decades, I lived the American dream. We lived in the suburbs, went to high school and then to college. My parents built a work ethic and thirst for knowledge that led all four of us to graduate from college. All becoming engineers except one. I never seemed to develop a passion for any one field of study.
As I entered college I was fascinated with the oceans. Rather odd for a boy who had spent most of his life inland. I had spent the typical vacations at the beach with the family but that is not what spurred my interest. A television series called “The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau” had become my favorite and I wanted to see the world and learn more about the oceans and life in them.