It’s hard to narrow down to just one or even a dozen or a hundred memories of Grandpa Malia. He worked and loved tirelessly to create a living memory in the entire family. There are a million stories and quirks and thoughtful acts that live on in his children, grandkids, and even great grandkids today and forever. He taught me to swim, which became my only sport. He taught my dad, who then taught me how to be outdoors, work with my hands, and build anything I could dream up. He was there for everything I did in music, and always praised every note me or the band created. He inspires me to cook, make bread, and simmer soups. He taught me the value of being a man of family and the deepest connections you will ever have. And finally, he instilled in me a deep sense of honor and pride in what I do in the Navy. Every day at sea I carried and will always carry the stories of his time on ships at sea, his pride of what I was doing, and his insistence that I make sure the officers and sailors around me were always taken care of and led to a Malia standard. Thank you Grandpa. As we sailors say, Fair Winds and Following Seas. Love, Josh

Lots of childhood memories I hold very close to my heart- I will never forget the annual apple harvest and making dozens of gallons of apple cider, feeding the horses (and shoveling their stalls) and of course when you taught me how to play golf. Brittany and I are so happy you were able to meet and hold your great granddaughter, Delaney. Heaven gained a great man this week- watch out for those gnomes in the road up there. Love you forever. Rob, Britt and Delaney

I loved his sailing stories. I’ll always remember the challenging Naval transit through the Saint Lawrence, surviving the big blow on Cayuga lake, and risking the first midnight Keuka Catboat sail. No doubt, there was excitement and joy when at the helm, managing the sails, and trimming for return to port. Our shared sailing ventures led me to recall Tennyson’s poem “Crossing the Bar”, an honorable tribute to an honored sailor.

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.