[The following is adapted from comments I made about my dad at his memorial on 11/11/23.]

I can still fondly remember my dad taking me and my friends when I was only 6 years old on hikes thru the streams and woods of 1950s Long Island. We would walk along looking for snakes, frogs and he would point out wildlife or things that would catch his eye and tell us stories from his boyhood, when he was looking for snakes, frogs and things with his boyhood friends.

Going to Jones Beach, I would watch him as he would take out his surf rod and head into the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. He would head out wearing these huge waders and the waves would come crashing in. After a few hours of this, my dad would return. Often empty-handed. But every once in a while, he’d return with a huge smile and a striped bass, his favorite fish. Now we knew what we were having for dinner!

Growing up, he was tough on me. But then he would have these incredible moments of tenderness.

He met my mom when they were ages 13 and 12. They dated for years and formed a formidable bond that transcended even divorce. 75 years together and apart but connected by a bond. Most men run out of town after divorce buy not my dad. He was always a family supporter and wouldn’t shrink from his responsibilities.

But what about Dad’s childhood? What about Charles? Well, I’ll let my Dad tell you in his own words. I took a look at an autobiography he wrote, never published. But a few excerpts from three different points in his youth help flesh out who he was and who he was becoming.

The first is from his boyhood:

How I loved Greenberg’s  candy store.  It had a glass case with shelves and all different kinds of candy on the shelves.  Two I remember in particular were the Blumenthal, which was a long, narrow  bar of solid milk chocolate wrapped in tinfoil and a long, wide belt of licorice with rows of brightly colored candy dots running the length of it.  First you nibbled off the candy dots and then, the Piece de Resistance, you devoured the solid belt of licorice.  Each was only a penny as was all the candy in the store then except candy bars which were a nickel – three for a dime when on sale.  Today we would call those stores stationery stores as they also sold newspapers and cigars, cigarettes and tobacco.   Greenberg’s always had a glass jar on the counter with individual cigarettes in it which were called “loosies”.  Every once in a while we would buy one or two and go around the corner and smoke them.  

The second excerpt is from him writing about his boyhood friends:

I had a wonderful childhood.  Some of my fondest memories are of the gang I hung around with, We had great times together.  The best times were snake hunting in Briar Woods and fishing at Baisley Pond and Kissena Lake, off the Crossbay Boulevard bridge and off Steeplechase Pier at Coney Island.  Jimmy Saporito and I were inseparable- we went everywhere together.  I have such fond memories of carefree days sitting under the willow trees at Kissena Lake fishing with cane poles for carp and catfish.  We used corks for floats and what a thrill it was to watch the cork twitch meaning we had a bite and then seeing it plunge beneath the surface and then hauling out a nice carp or catfish.   I remember long hot days fishing off the Crossbay Boulevard bridge and catching maybe one flounder or an eel.  But I was happy with that – and my dear mother was always sure to cook up whatever I brought home, God bless her. 

The last excerpt I included is from when he had just joined the Navy and was going off to war:

I had always felt I wanted to go to sea.  Also, while I was still a boy my father bought a new radio for the living room.  The thing I loved about it was that it had several bands and brought in stations from around the world.  But what fascinated me the most was Morse Code wireless messages flashing around the globe.  My mind pictured ships at sea and who knows what messages they were sending.  They always sounded so urgent, probably because they were sent so fast.  I longed to know what they said and longed to be one of the persons sending and receiving the messages.

I enlisted in the United States Navy in August of 1944 and was called up in September of 1944. I was told that I would be going to Radio School after I finished Boot Camp.

Finally, our orders came.  We were marched to the dock and ushered aboard a small aircraft carrier which were called jeep aircraft carriers – Navy designation CVE.  Would you believe the name of the ship was the U.S.S. Long Island?  We left San Francisco late in the afternoon.  I went up to the bow and stood there looking out to sea – I was finally getting my wish!  We sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge and I remember looking back later and seeing the bridge disappearing into the distance.

Those are my dad’s words, not mine.

Dad became a signalman in Naval Communications. He didn’t get to be in battle, get to fight.  But he helped save lives, he saved navy ships from being torpedoed, yet he felt guilty he didn’t get to be in battle, get to fight.

I told him about 40 years ago he did not need to feel guilty since he was in the thick of it. But, that’s WW II dads I guess. There is so much more from his book but I just wanted to let him tell things in his own voice.

He was a tough man but also tough on himself. He was a tough dad but also generous in his support as long as you were willing to do your part.

He was an enigma at times. But he was honest as well as suspicious. Truthful but cautious. Stern like his father. Misunderstood like his mother.

He was so proud of becoming an accountant and then an Auditor with several major companies including Sperry Rand. While at Sperry, he got to traverse the USA and ended up loving the Pacific Southwest, especially Arizona. He fell in love with the Cowboy Mystique. And because of that, he took his family on an amazing journey to Arizona where we were all stunned by the Grand Canyon, the Painted Desert, scenes of the Old West and so much more.

But best of all, life was good to him. I’m so glad that he learned this as he got older and reflected back upon a very successful life. But he did a lot more than his parents had ever expected of him.

The most important thing I learned from my dad was to be independent. So how cool was that? He taught me about responsibility, financial independence and taking care of others.

I wanted to end with a tribute I wrote about fathers on Father’s Day, 2022. Here is an excerpt about my own father:

When I was a kid, my dad would take me on hikes and he loved to tell me about his boyhood days of fishing in the Great South Bay. He and his friends would take the LIRR from Jamaica train station to Merrick and walk down to the water with their fishing poles and tackle boxes to catch flounder, fluke and whatever else they could catch in 1930s America.

I still remember him talking about his friends and it was a glimpse into his childhood. It sounded idyllic. As a five year-old, it just sounded astounding to me that my dad was once a boy doing these kind of things.

Later, my dad started taking me with him as we would revisit his youth and his old fishing spots and the two of us would rent a small boat from Nick’s Marina  in Freeport and sail off into the Great South Bay to fish for the mysteries of the deep.

We always came home with flounder or fluke for dinner as my mom would fry or bake the freshest fish you could get and my dad would be back in Heaven. I was enjoying the feast pretty well too, as I had caught some of the bounty myself.

My greatest memory of my “fishing days” was one outing to Merrick and the fish weren’t hitting as much as usual (as if you can say a flounder “hits”). No, this wasn’t catching marlin or swordfish in the Gulf of Mexico. Still. Suddenly, my rod bent. I mean, really bent. My dad looked down into the salt water and surmised that I had snagged my line on the bottom of the bay, probably a rock or “an old tire,” as he suggested with disgust. I pulled and pulled but I was having no success. Then, my dad saw it – “Oh my God, it’s a doormat!” he shouted in excitement. So, I’m a seven year-old kid and I don’t know that a doormat means a large fluke. So, I’m pulling and tugging while my dad reaches down to try to help me get the prize fish into our tiny rowboat when abruptly, the line snaps – and I can still see the expression on my dad’s face – the open mouth, his eyes wide – and then he goes from shock to remorse to laughter all in one second – and he is pumped! He was so excited! We came that close to landing Moby Dick but alas, he got away. It’s all good, a Top 10 memory during my growing-up years.

As I got older and drifted away, he drifted too, toward the Atlantic Ocean and away from the little skiffs that we would rent for a morning and afternoon under the sun. He became more interested in surf fishing and he would go off by himself into the crashing waves of Jones Beach to occasionally bring home a striped bass or a bluefish.

I will end with a favorite memory about my Dad. When I was about 5 or 6 years-old, I would often watch old Laurel & Hardy reruns. My dad would often stop by the television when he saw them on the screen. My father loved Laurel & Hardy since he grew up with them too. What I remember best is the sound of my dad giggling beside me as we both watched Laurel & Hardy routines or their movies. He was actually giggling, tickled at their pratfalls and comedy. Priceless.

Chris Ebel
11/19/23

Photo Credit: Author