VOLUNTEER FIREFIGHTERS!

Tom Van Wyen

I’ll start. I posted this on my new Face Book Page titled “The Harmony Project.”
It recalls a moment of clarity I had about Harmony and Character waay back in 1982, and is dedicated to my grandfather – George Van Wyen…, enjoy🙏
Harmony – Gratitude – Inheritance
It was the fall of 1982. The USS Trepang, the nuclear fast-attack submarine I served on, had set the Maneuvering Watch as we made our way back to Portsmouth Naval Shipyard after two weeks at sea. On a submarine, the maneuvering watch is set when running on the surface—typically entering or leaving port.
What made it unique was its simplicity. Only two men stood topside on the sail: the Commanding Officer and a phone talker, relaying orders below to the con and engineering spaces. That morning, it was my CO and mentor, Captain John Porter—and me.
Like all Navy commands, we had an ombudsman—a volunteer, usually a spouse, appointed to serve as the bridge between the command and the families back home. On the Trepang, that role belonged to my wife, Carolann. She was six months pregnant with our first child, Justin, and she knew we were returning.
It was a crisp, clear fall morning as we approached Kittery Point. I raised my binoculars and scanned the shoreline—and there she was.
Carolann stood on the bluff, waving with both arms, joyful and unrestrained—jumping up and down as if she could will the submarine the rest of the way home.
In that instant, time seemed to slow.
A quiet settled over me—not the absence of noise, but the presence of something deeper. Peace. The kind that anchors itself in your memory and never quite leaves.
I felt the weight and wonder of it all at once—the life we were building, the child on the way, and the love that waited just ahead.
And then my thoughts drifted backward—to my grandfather on the Willie K.
I thought about the lessons he had taught me. Not just in words, but in the way he lived—steady, principled, enduring. And it struck me that I now stood at the threshold of passing those same lessons forward.
From grandfather… to grandson… to great-grandson.
In that moment, I understood something I had only felt before:
Character is not created in a single life—it is inherited, stewarded, and given away again.
I lowered the binoculars, still watching her, and felt a quiet gratitude settle in my chest.
Thank you, Pop—for everything.

Coach Paul Valenti

Although their is an enormous number of men that I’ve coached over the years, one of the few who stands out for many reasons. That man is Tony Iorio. Not only as he one of Sayville’s finest football players, he went on to play in college, built a life for himself and his family and was a success in the business world. These reasons, in addition to the fact that he was monumentally funny and had a huge heart made him especially memorable to me. At his wake, a former teammate of his said to me, “He was your boy” . He couldn’t have been more right.

Donald S. Parsons

William Bason, our great grandfather, whose masonry skills built many buildings in the area. The old postoffice on Main St has a stone on the front steps with his name. Also many of the railroad stations.

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