California. *Sigh* my birthplace and more. My family would occasionally make a trip to visit the pacific. If you know me, you know that my memory is like a black hole and I remember next to nothing. But some light memories reach out from that black hole for me to recall. One year we were visiting during the Fourth of July. I left my brother Benjamin with my hard earned arcade prize, a plush Spongebob. He traded it for some almost dead glow sticks because some cute girls wanted the Spongebob. Now thats what I call the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals! I watched my sister Caitlin and Benjamin from the roof of our hotel on the grassy knoll spattered with trees that looked like they were from a Dr. Seuss story. My sister Hannah was always by my side usually fighting with me (oh how thats changed). I ate too many of the sugar cubes offered at roof top breakfast. I CONSTANTLY wanted to be closer to the water. I remember the steps taken down to the beach. Walking down the concrete stairway and around the corner finding bear sized sea lions lounging and barking. I can still smell the tide pools. I remember looking out on the dark blue and gray horizon, feeling spray of the waves giving me goosebumps and then hearing my mother *gasp* “MOLLY HELENA” and telling me to get away from the edge. I knew if I turned my back on the ocean, the ocean wouldn’t swallow me. I trusted her, but I listened to my mother. The few memories I hold from La Jolla are building blocks to why I became a marine biologist.
The most influential memory I have from La Jolla was of the first time I swam over very deep water. I think I was four years old. I found out I was not afflicted by thallasophobia. My dad and I brought out a waterproof disposable camera, and a bag of frozen peas and started snorkeling. I remember floating on the surface of the cold water. We were swarmed by giant bright orange Garibaldi fish as we fed them the frozen peas. Behind the orange fish I could feel the life blow us, hiding in the deep green-blue, pulsing through the kelp forest.
This must have been one of the founding moments of my fierce love and devotion for our oceans. I’ve only been to California a handful of times. The Pacific Ocean has a deep and strange affect on my soul. It’s constantly calling me to its cold, deep and lively waters. Like my own personal siren, she wails out for me to join it and explore its depths.
I was born in San Diego. I am the fourth child, Caitlin being the first, Ben the second and Hannah the third. My extended family is gigantic. To help you understand let me explain. My mothers side of the family has a family picnic every June. About 100 people are there every year! My fathers side is similar in size as he is one of 6 kids and my mother is one of 7 kids. They grew up on the same street a few houses away from each other and so my mother and father and aunts and uncles were very close for most of their younger years. This being said, most of the people I am closely related to were born in the same state, town and many in the same hospital. Except me. I’m what we like to call the San Diego Surprise! Whether I was an accident or not, I like the name. We were living in San Diego because my father was a cardiologist in the Navy. He was supposed to be deployed to Somalia, but when I was born the Navy allowed let him stay with his family and the San Diego Surprise.
Days after I was born from my mother, I was taken to the ocean. This is what I like to call my second birth, as in born from the ocean. I don’t remember that day, but the photos of me in my mothers arms, on a cliff by the sea are all the proof I need. The sun in my eyes and salty air touching my skin, and the sound of waves crashing then and there hit my soul. December of 1992 was where the Pacific first got a hold of me. It hasn’t let go. Living on the East Coast of New England didn’t change that either.
Growing up in New England, I learned from the Atlantic. The wild rocky shores taught me well. I loved exploring at low tide. The tide pools in the jetty of Wells Beach in Maine trapped gastropods, crustaceans, echinoderms, cnidarians and small fish. When you got ridiculously lucky you found baby elasmobranchs. (For you non-marine science people that basically means snails, crabs, sea stars, anemones, fish and things in the shark and ray family.) Seaweed, though smelly and itchy, showed me the secrets of marine life. I dove into the waves learning how they form, build, crash and the energy involved. The wind carried the scent of life, death, and minerals of the ocean. I used my senses to understand physics, chemistry and biology since I was a curious little girl.
As I explored and learned on the east coast, I always recalled the vibrant colors of anemones in the rock pools of La Jolla. I remember the firs time I poked one and it recoiled within itself. It was dark purple, and the size of my head. We found a photo recently of me (in my pajamas on rocks) admiring some divers on the rocky cliff. The had neoprene covering their bodies and strapped weights to their hips and a spear gun resting on the rocks.
Pretty sure this was the first thing we did when we woke up.
My first memories of the ocean are what built the inner workings of my passion for the ocean. As I grow and learn, I can always think back to those bright orange fish. I thank my father for holding my hand over depthless waters and my mother for always being shore support. With out those opportunities and love in my life, I may have turned out very different.
Mile High Marine Biologist 