Ocean Watch

Monday, October 19, 1998

Boy’s big answer
positive, thanks to
fascinating ocean

Recently, my sister decided to move to Hawaii from the Midwest. It was the right move for her, but still, since it meant a new job, a new culture and the end of a relationship, it was a difficult and heartbreaking decision.

For months, we talked on the phone, planning, pondering and considering the options. Tears fell more than once.

One of our major concerns was the effect of such a major move on her reticent 9-year-old son, Joe.

His life would change dramatically, too, and we worried about his refusal to talk about the whole issue.

One day, my sister and I were in the middle of one of our phone calls when I heard Joe say something in the background.

"Joe says he wants to ask you a question," she told me.

"About what?" I asked, feeling sure this was going to be one of those gut-wrenching kid questions.

My sister paused, obviously worried. "I have no idea."

I sighed. "Put him on."

We chatted for a moment, then came the moment of truth. "Aunt Susan, can you tell me something?"

I held my breath; my sister hovered near him.

"I was just wondering . . . " He paused. "How old do you have to be to go scuba diving?"

We're still laughing about Joe's big question. Leave it to a kid to lighten up the adults and put some perspective into an emotional situation.

The answer to Joe's question is that both PADI and NAUI, the two international organizations that certify people to dive safely, require children to be at least 12 years old to get certified.

Snorkeling, however, is another story. Anyone can do it at any age.

The day after Joe arrived in Hawaii, I took him snorkeling. Joe's a natural in the water, and he was soon skimming the surface and free-diving like he'd been doing it all his life.

I had one major disappointment, though: He wasn't very interested in the fish names.

"Look, Joe," I would say. "There's a pretty fish. It's called a Moorish idol."

Joe would briefly glance at the fish, then off he would go, much more interested in kicking with his new fins to see how fast he could go.

The next time we went snorkeling, I wised up. We went at dusk, a good time to see active marine life, and I looked for some hands-on fun.

We were in three feet of water for about three minutes when Joe popped his head up and proclaimed, "I see a flying fish!"

When he pointed to his find, I was astonished to see, indeed, a flying gurnard moving over the sandy bottom on its winglike fins. I had been snorkeling there for years and never seen this fish there.

"Cool. That's a . . . " I started to say, but Joe was already gone. I followed, and soon we found a lizard fish and a box crab, both of which rapidly buried themselves in the soft sand to avoid our scrutiny.

But they weren't quite quick enough for Joe, who scooped the sand away and delightedly watched the animals rebury themselves, time and again. The only limit to this fun was that his Aunt Susan got cold and insisted they get out.

Joe has been in Hawaii for a few weeks now and seems to be enjoying himself immensely.

The worries his mom and I had about him adjusting either tumbled away in a wave beneath his Boogie Board or got buried in the sand with that fish and crab.

Now that they're here, it's clear my sister did a wonderful thing for her son by moving him to Hawaii.

"You like Hawaii, Joe?" I asked the other day.

He pursed his lips and thought. "Yep."

It was a big answer.