[“To my family I dedicate this resume of my Naval Service from June 20, 1941 to September 5, 1945.” Leading Seaman Coxswain Gordon Douglas Harrison, RCNVR V8809, Class Very Good, Jan. 6, 1975]
I don’t have many traditions because I’m easily distracted, very forgetful and some things just go out of fashion.
For example, as a marathoner I met with other runners for a traditional Christmas morning run for several years in a row, but gave it up about five years ago because I’d stopped running and couldn’t keep up.
I do celebrate Happy Hour at 5 p.m. regularly, however, because by that time, if I’m working in my shop, there’s enough dust in the air for me to signal a pause for a cold beer to help clear my throat.
Also, I almost always replace worn out clothes by buying used jeans and t-shirts - oh, it’s a tradition, for sure - during regular trips to the Village of Values.
And, as some readers may know, I write a column about my dad on or near Remembrance Day (I think I’ve been doing it for enough years now to call it a tradition) to keep thoughts and an appreciation of his service in the Canadian Navy and for his country alive in my mind and heart.
The process of preparing a suitable column enlivens other memories as well, and for that I’m always grateful.
While writing this week’s column (Nov. 10) I dipped into a document my father assembled in the mid-1970s entitled ‘The Naval Memoirs of Leading Seaman Coxswain Gordon Douglas Harrison’ and I was briefly taken back in time to the 1930s, a time when pennies were hard to come by, when a family of seven - with no father at the head of the table - was more common, when dreams of a life upon the sea entered young boys’ minds.
In dad’s ‘Foreward’ I read the following:
I was born September 6, 1920, 12 lbs. 10 ozs.
As a young boy I was crazy about ships. I used to make boats by folding paper in a certain way and then sail them on the creek.
I was from a family of seven, three girls and four boys. My mother needed a new door sill for our home so she somehow procured a lovely board from a lumber yard. I stole the board and Sonny Bucholtz and I hollowed it out and used it for our first ship, the Bluenose.
["Gord Douglas and Gord "Sonny" Bucholtz, Senior ball champs"]
We got old car batteries, melted the lead and molded it to fit the bottom of the boat as a keel. Built masts and yardarms, made sails and halyards and her maiden voyage at Vandenburgh’s swimming pool was a terrific success. She was painted blue and white. I always admired the real Nova Scotian Bluenose and have a plastic replica in my rec room today. Yes, Mum found out about the board and I not only got the board, I got the shoe brush on my bottom.
In the navy if an officer says “well done” it is nearly the same as getting a citation or medal. I hope my efforts at this story may interest someone enough to say “Dad, well done.”
I don’t think it’s ever too late to say “Dad, well done” so I say it now.
I knew dad’s love for the S.S. Silver Walnut ran deep (he served upon it in 1941), and I wish I knew more about the ship he motored to Sicily upon (that is, when the motors were running), but it was great to learn his love for ships started as a young boy.
gah
PS
Because dad maintained his connection with Gord “Sonny” Bucholtz until Gord’s death, I include a photo of the two men together during good times in 1949.
***
Please click here to read about dad’s 1941 adventure upon the sea and near Scotland.
http://itstrikesmefunny.blogspot.com/2011/05/dads-navy-days-pt-3-door-opens-at-kings.html
.
No comments:
Post a Comment