I lost two of my uncles within the last year. Both had a huge influence on me and my love of fishing in the saltwater. My Uncle Al ran a large restaurant on Martha’s Vineyard called the Navigator. My Uncle John was a homebuilder who hailed from Vermont but lived most of his life on Martha’s Vineyard as well. They had been good friends and business partners in the 70’s and ended up marrying two of my dad’s sisters.

Uncle Al and Aunt Cindy lived in a small apartment right on the water in Oak Bluffs. My uncle’s center console (named Summer Wind II) was parked at a dock right on the property and he regularly drove his boat to work at the Navigator over in Edgartown. Uncle John and Aunt Lex lived in Edgartown and their boat (Huck’s Fin) was moored in the harbor.

In the fall, the Navigator would shut down for the season and a large party would be held for the staff. My Dad and I went up there for a few years in a row to fish the derby and help prep for the big parties. We started going when I was about 12.

The parties were fun but the highlight for me was being on the water with my dad and my uncles. We would go out for hours. We’d get wet, we’d be a little cold and there was a lot of time spent “fishing, not catching” as we say. I loved it. Is there an internal spark I have for fishing? Yes, yes there is! Yet, it was something else about being out there that I truly loved.

What I’ve come to realize is that once I went fishing with them, my role changed. I was no longer “just a kid.” On the water, you become part of the crew. You need to listen, not because you’re a kid, but because everyone needs to listen to the captain. If someone hooks up with a fish — and let me tell you that will light your world up on a cold day in October — you have to reel your line in.

Stow the rods! Watch the throttle! Get the net ready boys, get the net!! When the fish comes in, even if it wasn’t yours, you’re a part of that catch. You contributed and you celebrate it together.

When you’re a boy on a boat, with your father and uncles, the language might slip into slightly saltier prose. You might not participate in it, but you observe and become aware that you’re in a different world. You’re among men. When fishing, you listen, you help. You’re rewarded for not complaining and for being brave and dammit, if you’re lucky, you get to feel that rod bending with life.

The crisp sea spray in the air, gasoline fumes from the engine blending in with it, the waves pitching that boat, the sun filtering through the clouds — you’re alive, you’re a boy among men and you’re on your way to becoming one.

Andy Roberts lives in Sea Cliff, N.Y.