This morning I said to her, over coffee at The Red Roaster in Wortley Village, “Wow. Time is passing quickly. I leave for Halifax in less than 3 weeks.”
She smiled and nodded and looked at her watch.
Ouch.
Yesterday I finished off a few important tasks. I ordered a plaque and walnut frame (to attach to the SS Silver Walnut ll), bought oil and a new filter for my bike, assembled part of the Walnut’s cedar hull, fashioned a prow from a bit of 800 year-old cedar, and assembled reading and writing materials for the 4,300 km. motorcycle journey ahead.
["Needs lots of trim, but it's smooth sailing so far.": photos GH]
As mentioned earlier, each day I’m gone I plan to read about my father’s adventures in the Merchant Marine.
And each day I’ll think back to certain memories I have of my dad, prompt more memories to come to mind, and (hopefully) fill several pages of my journal with remembrances that can be passed along to interested family members and readers.
I know full well the importance of writing stuff down.
For example, a few years before he passed away my father wrote a story about a memorable Christmas dinner that was served at his Aunt Nellie and Uncle Wally’s house in London, England, in 1942.
A short excerpt from The Norwich Gazette follows:
“The dinner is over, the dishes are put away, the friends depart and the three of us make ready to walk to South Kensington rail yard where work goes on - Christmas day and all. Remember, there is a war and England is expecting an invasion.
“Uncle Wally works at the rail yard. But first, (we make) a short pit stop at the South Kensington pub, order a pint or two of ale and take a few cracks at the dart board.
(Uncle Wally left for work).
“Aunt Nellie and I got to the singing stage, pushed our way through the canvas blackout doors and headed for home.”
Though there is more to the story, the two were soon “sawing logs at 107 Emlyn Gardens, Shepherds Bush, Hammersmith, London, England.”
And with those fine details, I know the location of at least one relative’s house I’d like to visit one day and one pub where I’d like to sit and sip a few pints of ESB and take a few cracks at a dart board.
I’m thankful my dad wrote down such details.
Very recently, while I snapped a few pictures in Norwich of a birdhouse with a cool ladder inside (earlier post), the man taking care of my dad’s bluebird trails said he had something for me.
No, he didn’t come back with a Highway 59 road sign.
Something even better.
["PS. It is enjoyable what you see as you travel the trail (.e.) besides Blue B's"]
He handed me a handwritten note he’d received in the mail from my dad. It thanked him for taking care of the birdhouses and trail.
“You might as well have this,” said Mr. Andrews.
I could barely speak for a few minutes at the time, but after I got my voice back I thanked him several times.
Fred didn’t know I was preparing to bury dad at sea but, because of the upcoming trip to do so, the note felt like pure gold in my hand.
I’m certain my trip to Halifax will be a very rewarding adventure and you can be sure I’ll log and post as many pertinent details as possible.
Sail on!
***
And now, I’d better finish the boat and many other preparations.
A Promise to Fulfill will be continued at a later date, in late June or early July.
Please click here to read Part 1.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment