Aquaman and his Aquanauts

We had a grand adventure this weekend. So grand, in fact, that it took me a few days after returning to be up for posting anything about it. I can now report that The Redhead, Thing 1, and Thing 2 are certified SCUBA divers. A milestone. Aquaman and I are so very proud.

Aquaman and his Aquanauts

When you're married to a marine biologist, SCUBA diving is required. Aquaman and I spent our honeymoon diving in Belize. The first vacation we ever took together was to go diving in Cozumel. 

A lot has changed since I was certified in 1992. I took SCUBA for a P.E. credit at Texas A&M. Aquaman was one of the Divemasters for the class. I might have been his favorite student. I haven't been diving in many years, so I was a little nervous about this trip. But the location, Balmorhea State Park, is perfect for a nervous diver. It is the world's largest spring-fed swimming pool and has amazingly clear water. San Solomon Springs is the source of this magic in the middle of the Texas desert.  

Because Aquaman took the lead on this certification business for the boys, they just assumed that I was clueless about the sport. And it's a fair assumption. I have certainly demonstrated my ineptitude concerning sailing. They remind me of this often, especially now that they are taking sailing classes (but that's another topic for another post). 

As the time for this trip approached, the boys had lots of questions - all of which they directed at Aquaman - considering me useless. 

"What will they make us do on our checkout dive?"

"Will we have to clear our masks?"

"Will we get to buddy breathe?"

I realized that of course these children o'mine had never seen me dive - how could I dive when someone had to be watching them???? My most recent dives (still several years ago when we lived on the Texas coast) involved getting babysitters for their much younger selves or farming them out on playdates so that I could get away for a few hours with Aquaman offshore. 

So it was with much surprise that the boys reacted when Aquaman casually mentioned that I had been "narked" while diving at depths over 120 feet in Belize's Blue Hole. Thing 1 and Thing 2 both asked, "What?" simultaneously. Incredulously. The Redhead looked at me and said, "Wait. You've been diving that deep?" 

So sweet. 

"Yep," I said proudly, puffing out my chest a little at my seat at the dining table. Finally...some respect!

"Wow. Y'all used to be cool."

Cue the deflate button.

Nothing like a comment from a teenager to keep you humble. 

Still, the boys were pretty impressed when I produced my dive card. Mostly because it's over 20 years old.

1992 was a very long time ago...

And I must provide more proof of my previously cool life.

That's called a "giant stride" entry, fellas.

Cozumel. 1993.

So glamorous. Belize. Honeymoon. 1996.

Aquaman makes it look easy. Belize. 1996.

Balmorhea (pronounced Bal-mor-ay) is no easy day trip from the metroplex - nor from anywhere, really. Even though we pulled the boys out of school early on Friday, we still didn't get on the road until 4:00 p.m. and didn't make it there until almost 1:00 a.m. You know what never got old? Listening to the navigation app periodically announce that we were however-many miles from Bal-mor-ee-ah (like diarrhea). Snorts and chuckles all around. Every. Time. 

We fell into bed and were shocked the next morning to look out the window and see the Davis Mountains. We were oblivious to their presence driving in the dark. 

The view from our room.

You can camp or stay in one of the really cool motel rooms, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps. I highly recommend staying in the rooms. Known as San Solomon Springs Courts, they are adobe-style and were built in the 1930s. Totally worth it.

Our suite.

Of course, our accommodations were still not adequate for The Wrecking Crew, who abhor sharing a bed. There were 3 queen-size beds in our suite. This was not enough. Thing 1 refused to share a bed with anyone and instead announced he would sleep on the floor. The concrete floor.

"You shared a womb for 9 months! You can't share a bed for two nights?" I screeched.

"I don't remember that! It doesn't count!" The boy was not giving in.

Aquaman took pity on him and helped him make a pallet in the closet. Seriously. That's where he slept.

Nincompoop accommodations.

But on to the diving. 

The main length of the pool.

The elusive Thing 1. Rarely photographed.

Parents thrilled to have made the drive without killing anyone.

Things went pretty smoothly. Other students in the class had to cancel at the last minute, so the boys ended up being the only ones on the checkout dive with three instructors. That's known as man-on-man defense in my book. A preferred strategy.

Getting the wetsuit on is your first challenge.

The zipper goes in the back, son.

I like to call this one "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Diver."

Aquaman and Thing 2.

Aquaman and Thing 1.

The one who shivers most is out first.

Aquanaut 1.

Aquanaut 2.

The original Aqualad.

As a parent, I am sometimes taken aback by how small our children still are. We so often fixate on how big they are getting - remarking that we can't believe they're teenagers or that they've already grown out of whatever clothes we bought them two months ago. But sometimes? I am struck by how small they still are. This picture of Thing 2 captures that. He is concentrating on his tank and regulator and properly detaching one from the other. But you know what I see? His little body. His little sunburned hands. How young he still is.

Little man.

Okay, okay. No crying!

Balmorhea is a special place. Aquaman and I were here once before in 1995 - recently engaged, still in graduate school. His major professor at Texas A&M and other grad students were involved in research with the two endangered species of fish that exist in the artesian springs: the Comanche Springs pupfish and the Pecos gambusia. We camped all around this area and I read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal Dreams while the rest of them did fishy things. This trip made me think of Kingsolver and her fantastic work. I fell in love with her on this trip and have read everything she has written since. It seemed fitting, then, that we returned here almost 20 years later with our own three children.

A nice little surprise was renting from the local diveshop, Funky Li'l Diveshop. It just so happens that it's Aggie owned and operated. Whoop!

An Aggie business.

It was a pleasure doing business here. The owner is friendly, knowledgeable, and enthusiastic about diving. But perhaps most memorable was his Aggie ring. Take a look.

The most well-loved Aggie ring I've ever seen.

That's a ring, my friends. He never takes it off. Class of '76. I have seen Aggie rings that have a bit of wear, rounded and polished here and there. They are typical on old Ags in their 80s. Not a young'un like Darrel here. I had to document it. With his permission, of course. 

Darrel Rhyne, Owner - Funky Li'l Diveshop. Proud Aggie.

The drive back was torture and began with Aquaman getting a speeding ticket just before we cleared the Balmorhea city limits. Mind your speed if you ever go out to these parts. It's pretty flat - just you and the tumbleweeds (yes, we saw lots) so it's easy to go a lot faster than you think you are. This was ironic - Aquaman never speeds and I often complain about his Grandpa-esque driving habits. I will never complain again.  

After a whirlwind 48 hours, we have 3 certified SCUBA divers to call our very own. My dad would have referred to this as the Aggie Navy. An apt description, I'd say. 

Aggie Navy.

The influence of a good man: Dr. Sammy Ray

The sad news that Dr. Sammy Ray had died reached me this afternoon. He was 94 years old, a long run for anyone. And yet my hand flew to my mouth and I gasped in surprise. I guess I just expected him to always be there.


We saw him a few summers ago at the grocery store in Galveston. He was using one of those machines to check his blood pressure. He saw Aquaman and recognized him from his time as a student at TAMUG. We didn't want to bother him, but he was glad to see us and we ended up talking to him for 30 minutes, us standing and him sitting on the bench of that blood pressure machine, cane in hand. Aquaman had some questions to ask him about oysters and the drought and water quality. Listening to him speak was like being in a library, flipping through books. I was humbled in his presence, hanging on his every word about the drought and what it meant for Texas, especially the coast. While I had come across Sammy Ray in my work with the Coastal Bend Bays & Estuaries Program, I wasn't a former student like Aquaman, who still has the binder from his Aquamed class in 1990.

Yes. I said 1990.

That's Sammy Ray on the agenda - doing his thing.

Sammy Ray took the time to ask me about teaching and to tell me how important it was. He asked about Aquaman's new job and that led to another conversation about NOAA and the Fisheries Observer Program and then he told us both this:

"Find what you love to do and you'll never work another day in your life." 

It stuck with me. I wrote it down later. I've seen variations of it since, but it meant the most coming from him.

He was legendary on the Texas A&M at Galveston campus. Every time I saw him speak, he received standing ovations from the audience: conferences, meetings, lecture halls. He was brilliant, yes. But what set him apart was that he was approachable. No ivory tower syndrome there. He loved students and always found time to talk to them - to really talk to them, not just lecture. He so enjoyed his work every day that he never really retired, it was in his blood and his very being. It was who he was.

He left a legacy that our oldest son was introduced to this summer. Sammy Ray started SeaCamp, it was his baby and he nurtured it and helped it grow into what it is today. We saved and planned for a year in advance and got on the waiting list as soon as we could (Yep. There's a waiting list.) so that The Redhead could go to the session that focused on Marine Engineering.

Aquaman and I met aboard the Texas Clipper, part of TAMUG's Summer School at Sea program in the summer of 1989. Going back there with The Redhead was quite an experience.

The poster Prep Cadets were given in 1989.

With the anchor from the Texas Clipper in 2013.

Just like my dad before me, I made sure that letters arrived for The Redhead while he was there.

Of course I have Aggie stationery. Don't be ridiculous.

We didn't hear from him all week. We knew this was a good sign. When we picked him up, he was all smiles. He led us around the campus as if we'd never been there.

"There's the library," he pointed out.

"Um. Yeah. I worked there for a year," Aquaman told him.

"And there's the cafeteria," The Redhead added.

"I worked there, too," Aquaman explained.  "My dorm was that one over there and I had classes here and here," he said, pointing.

"Wow!" The Redhead had never been so interested. He continued his tour, telling us the things he had done that week. "So I really, really want to go here now," he told us. "For sure."

And that was the point - it's what Sammy Ray knew. If you got kids hooked by bringing them there and letting them learn and explore, they would stay engaged. If you encouraged their interests, it would pay off. Not just for them or you, but for the greater good.

During my time in Alaska, I learned that when a Tribal elder dies, people often say it's as if a library has burned down. All that knowledge - all the things done and seen - gone forever. It is a catastrophic loss and reason to mourn.

But in this case, because of a body of work and a lifetime dedicated to educating others, I don't think it's true. Sammy Ray may be gone, but his work will never be. That's the influence of a good man.

Well done, Sammy Ray. Well done.

Second generation Sea Aggie.

We are the Aggies, the Aggies are we...

I'm an Aggie, I married an Aggie, my dad was an Aggie, my brother and his wife are Aggies, my best friend and her husband are Ags...I could go on and on. It's Game Day here at our house and I am the only woman in a house full of boys. You would think that the menfolk would be excited, but it's exactly the opposite.


Aquaman does not like football. He doesn't much like any team sports and certainly wouldn't waste time watching them on TV. He'd rather be outside hiking or SCUBA diving somewhere. And our three children are pretty much the same. But I've tried. Boy, have I tried. The boys say that I am too loud when I watch Aggie football games and that my screaming hurts their ears. I can't help it.

This morning I laid out the t-shirt I expected Aquaman to wear, after I put myself in my game day shirt. "I laid your shirt out on the bed," I told him as I left the bedroom. "Oh Lord," was all he said. But he put it on.

"It's on. Go away now, little woman."

One down, three to go.

Thing 2 was still in bed, but at least awake. I dug around his clothes and found his Aggie t-shirt. "You have to wear this today," I said as I threw it on his chest. And then I repeated the same thing with The Redhead and Thing 1, already stationed on the couch playing xBox.

"Are we going somewhere?" they both asked.

"No. But it's good luck. Put them on. The game's at 2:30."

"You're weird, Mom. Whatever."

"It we're not going anywhere, why do I have to put this on?"

"Why do you have to take a picture?"

I made The Redhead take a picture of me and Thing 2 to prove I have my game day shirt on, too. Even though I'm perturbed and they're annoyed.

This is mostly how things go in our house. I act squirrely and they put up with it.

I almost forgot Yellow Dog. She always wears a maroon collar that Thing 2 made for her, but I put her game day collar on.

Yellow Dogs Gig 'Em too.

Once I had everyone properly dressed, I took a moment and looked around our house. Everywhere I turned, I was met with Aggie or maroon. I documented it. Have a look.

Thing 2's new school clothes include this awesome maroon outfit.

Assorted ribbons and medals from the twins. Aggie lanyard.

Thing 2's craft space where he cuts things with an Xacto knife.

Representing the Ags in the duct tape tower.
Why yes, that's a baby shark preserved in formalin on Thing 2's desk.
Did you forget Aquaman is raising marine biologists?

Yes, that's a maroon towel. And maroon drums.

Aggieland yearbooks sit on shelves in the living room.

This flag flies outside our house during football season.

My dad's old parking space sign from outside Kyle Field.

Paint chips on the hall table. I'm considering which wall to paint maroon. It's a sickness.

Even on the fridge. It's a bottle opener - clever and used often.

In the kitchen cupboard.

Coffee just tastes better out of these.

On the kitchen table. 

Above the kitchen table. WHOOP!

In Aquaman's office.

Part of my DVD collection, sent to me in Alaska by a dear friend when it was
the only way I had to see the Fightin' Texas Aggie Band perform. Dark days.

I am slowly becoming my father. He drove a maroon Cadillac. We had maroon carpet in our house. He wore a polyester maroon jumpsuit often. Every barn at the farm I grew up on was painted maroon and white.

Barns look good in maroon and white, don't they?

He bought me and my two sisters Yell Leader coveralls when we were toddlers. We were given Aggie t-shirts every year. I still have a maroon and white duffle bag and garment bag that he custom ordered for me, monogrammed with my name, when I headed off to college.

I still use it.

So I guess it really shouldn't surprise you to see this.

Our first house in Alaska. Maroon door and trim. 

My BFF came to Alaska with Aggie gear for the new babies.

Happy Aggie Babies.

And I guess that's all for now. A glimpse into the life of an Aggie, indoctrinated since birth. I gotta go. Kickoff's soon...

Me, 1979.
Gig 'Em!