His Love is a Tall Ship

Somewhere out over the North Sea our son sails tonight. Just as here, it's windy and cold; the first wintry days. Out on the North Sea tonight, both the air and water are around 45 degrees; the seas are fairly calm - as are his parents; both are subject to change!

After almost a year of building this brigantine tall ship, they set sail this week, beginning their journey as a green cargo ship. They are heading to Copenhagen to the Climate Control Conference for their 'unveiling' as an eco-friendly form of shipping, relying entirely on wind, sail and strong hands on deck.

His labor of love of this past year is complete. He says: "She sails great! She's fast and smooth!" This year he's lived in the Netherlands as a volunteer working/living with a team of 15-20 international, mostly young people. Everything you see has been cut, carved, varnished, sewn, rigged by their own hands - everything. His work has been as assistant rigger, learning to construct from trees, build masts and yardarms, blacksmith metal parts, sew sail, string lines, shrouds and ratlines - and now, she's complete. Now, he gets to enjoy the fruits of his labor, test her strength and his own.

This will be some of the toughest sailing he's ever done. He knows it - as best as anyone can know what awaits them in an unknowable adventure. It's not easy watching your child go off into the unknown, particularly a large, serious unknown - one serious enough to have life or death consequences. But then they all are, really; life lived fully is full of risks. As his parent, I remind myself he's a man, a man who must find his own, and I find comfort in Joseph Campbell's words about "following your bliss":

"The adventure is its own reward - but it's necessarily dangerous, having both negative and positive possibilities, all of them beyond control. We are following our own way, not our daddy's or our mother's way. So we are beyond protection in a field of higher powers than we know. Trials and revelations are what it's all about."

And with that, we place our trust in our son and in his higher powers that any trials he meets lead him to more and more revelation. At this point, the son is teaching the father; I watch with awe and try to have just a little rub off on me - that courage to leap forward into the unknown, to face the night with little more than the strength of will to remain standing through trials and storms and the exuberance to find joy in this adventure of living life to the fullest!

Godspeed, Tres Hombres.

Good luck, son. Tiahui! Follow your bliss!

And Happy 21st birthday! It's official! It's December 10th - your 21st birthday in the middle of the North Sea!

Blessings on your journey; our love goes with you - always.

Best viewed full screen: Tres Hombres maiden voyage.

MY LOVE IS A TALL SHIP

by Jimmy Crowley

My love is a tall ship and a sweet brigantine,
One of the old girls seldom now seen,
And she heaves to the wind, boys. See how she flies
With stars in her hair, boys, and mist in her eyes.

My love is a tall ship. No finer was seen,
For many's the ocean my true love has been,
And the wind in the rigging it whispers her name,
While brace on the bows watches over the main.

So blow your breezes; blow a fair wind to the Asgard,
And see that lady go o'er the dark rolling sea.

Haul on the sheets, boys. Make up the downhaul,
And step on the oars, lads, and mind you don't fall.
Stand by to brace, boys. Unfurl the topsail,
And we'd soon make her home on the watery main.

So blow your breezes; blow a fair wind to the Asgard,
And see that lady go o'er the dark rolling sea.

My love is a tall ship and a sweet brigantine,
One of the old girls seldom now seen,
And she heaves to the wind, boys. see how she flies
With stars in her hair, boys, and mist in her eyes.

A Place at the Table

My recent absence was partly due to my attention being elsewhere with four folks I know passing over these past few weeks. Grief and loss being a large part of navigating the emotional seas, I offer this in honor and memory of Tom, James, Ann & Robert [and many others].

A Place at the Table

how did this come to be?

that you would cross my path

at this particular time -

this time like no other time

entering as an old friend walking through

the back porch screen door with the tear in it

that the cats go through.

and there you are standing in my kitchen

looking for your favorite coffee cup

the one with The Incredible Hulk on it -

and your seat at the morning table with the view

overlooking the side yard.

it’s all so neighborly familiar

only thing is usually the neighbors aren’t

that friendly here but you

you’re another story with your

1970’s gigantic glasses still worn by

you and Carol Channing only

your odd quiet ways both comforting and discomforting

at the same time

your powwow hat with the chemo sucks button challenging those

who’d rather not talk about that cancer of yours

that cancer that never could own you

but in the end hovered over you and whispered

in the night that it would not be going away -

not until you went away also

and when that night finally came

and your breath exhaled:

one

last

time

coyotes wailed

owls hushed.

we didn’t realize that you’d gone

and would not be coming back.

but you are gone

gone gone

gone.

but still

when we set the table

we try to remember to give you the cup

with the Incredible Hulk on it

and the seat with the view

of the side yard

and the peony

garden.