Our family was poor growing up. Like dirt poor. My father always had some jobs, three most of the time. One of them is his primary source of pitiful income breaking bolts or swinging a hammer for someone. The second was usually some other part-time work at a clothing store or some sort of retail - another on-the-books type gig for a discount on goods that our family desperately needed. The third job would always be something illegal and under the table like gambling, pretending he’s a trained butcher, although he had no prior experience or venue security at a strip club. All of this work and we still had nothing to show for it. I was a child, so I didn’t know any better, but looking back on it now, I realize why they ended in divorce. Well, that and my father’s obvious, untreated alcoholism and my mother’s undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder and depression. But, hey, who’s judging? They did the best they could and I appreciate it. I don’t want to go down that road right now or give off the impression that this isn’t a fun story. This is a light-hearted tale. A significant memory I have, one of a few, from my childhood while my parents, and our young family, was still together.

This is a pivotal memory for me. As our family grew, time with our parents became more scarce, especially when my mom had to get a gig at the airport to help support the family. For the first time we were going to take a flight and go to Fort Lauderdale for a long weekend. There is no way my parents could afford a whole week, but they could certainly afford the Super 8 for a few nights, especially now that the flights were free as a benefit my mom received from her new employer.

I don’t remember getting on the plane or the plane ride. I was around 10 years old, but I do remember getting out of the airport and feeling the difference in temperature. The humidity hit me like a punch to the gut. We shuffled our way to our rental car and made our way to the hotel.

It was the four of us. My mom, dad, older brother and I. This was before my younger sister had been born. Which, come to think of it she is just about 10 years behind me in age. I hope I wasn’t in the same hotel room the night she was conceived. How will I get this thought out of my head now?

My father and I had always gotten along. He and my mother split up not far after this trip, but for these few days in the sun, we were a family. My dad and I were both up early one morning. He was having a cheap, gray hotel coffee out of a styrofoam cup at the table by the window. Our room had overlooked the beach across the highway. Sure, we had to cross at the light at the corner, but we still had a view. My older brother and mom were still asleep as my dad looked over at me.

“You want to go walk on the beach?” He said with a smile on his face.

“Really?” I jumped up from the twin bed my brother and I were sharing.

“Yeah, let’s go. Why not? It looks beautiful out. Throw on your bathing suit really quick and let’s go.” My father threw a tank top on and reached for the hotel key on the table.

I loved mornings for as long as I have been alive, however at my young age, going out in the world and enjoying them without parental supervision made it impossible to get out and enjoy them. I was ecstatic to actually and on the beach made it even better. The blue sky went on for what seemed like forever. I couldn’t see a cloud in any direction. The warm Florida sun beat down on us, warming every inch of my skin. The water was clear and cool. For the first time in my life, I saw small schools of fish swimming at the shoreline and my brain exploded.

“Dad! Look! Holy crap! Fish!” I ran to the edge of the Atlantic, putting my feet in the foamy surf to get a better look.

My dad chuckled and took some strides in my direction. “Yeah! Isn’t that neat? You don’t see that in Philly”

We both watched as the minnow, like a fish, danced in the sunlight under the water. I could have stood there all day enjoying this moment with my father. I reached for his hand and he put his arm around my shoulder. “Love you, bud.”

After a few minutes, the fish went out to see, and we kept making our way down the beach. I have no idea how far we went, but for some reason, we both stopped. I guess we had decided that we had gone far enough and it was probably time to go back and get the day started with my mom and brother. They had to be awake by now.

We stared at the water for a moment, not saying a word, enjoying the view, sun, and light breeze on our faces. And, that is when my dad jumped in the water barely saying a word.

“Dad! Where are you going!” But before I knew it he was feet up flipping over a wave.

“Matt! I found money!” He called back. His head bobbing up and down like a buoy.

“What?” I thought to myself ‘Did he just say money?’

After a moment, he came running back up the surf with green rolled-up dollars in his hands screaming, “It was just floating in the ocean!”

“Holy crap!” This was one of my favorite phrases until I started cursing a few years later, “How much is it?”

My dad unfolded the crumpled bills and started counting. He looked back in the ocean to see if there was any more. We looked up and down the beach and besides an older woman and her dog about a half mile from us we were alone and the money was ours.

My dad motioned towards a t-shirt stand at the top of the beach. “There’s enough here for us to get breakfast sandwiches and new t-shirts!”

He grabbed my hand, and we made our way to get some new swag and a bacon egg and cheese.

This became a core memory for the rest of my life. It is a very special moment between just my father and I. To this day I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a breakfast sandwich as much as I did with my dad in a small cafe overlooking the beach in Florida. For the first time in my life, I felt like we were rich. I was wearing a new “Fort Lauderdale” t-shirt, not a hand-me-down, and my dad let me get whatever I wanted at the cafe. We ate like kings and walked on air back to the hotel to bring back food for my brother and mom. But, only I had a new T-shirt.