Captain Andy By Curtis Peter van Gorder “When you look up into the clouds think about me, “my father told me as we strolled down a wooded path with his arm in mine just after his 85th birthday celebration. We had a family reunion that summer. Our family came from all over the country and the world to honor the man that helped us come to be. This was something that we had never done before. Though my dad and I hadn’t seen each other much over the last 30 some years, except for an occasional visit, experiences we had shared together, mysteriously became a part of me, even the little things. As a boy, I used to be enthralled at how he washed his hands – thoroughly and repeatedly. I wasn’t always so enthralled however, at his idea of a good time – cleaning up the garage on a Saturday afternoon. Memories are selective and we frame the pleasant experiences while filing away the unsavory ones. In my mind’s gallery I recall what we did together: the afternoons spent playing catch in the backyard, the deep sea fishing trips, the two week canoe voyage down the Allegheny River with our Boy Scout troop, the search and discovery of the perfect Christmas tree to decorate our home, the victorious feeling of getting a kite up into the blue atop a windy hill. These moments are all precious parts of me something I would like my children to know about. Our life together, especially during my turbulent teen years was not always smooth sailing, but the years have a way of putting things in perspective. I grew up in the turbulent 60’s when established values were questioned and tested against the backdrop of the Vietnam War. At that time, I insisted on wearing long hair as a token defiance to the ‘system’. My dad and I had a few heated battles about the need to cut my hair, but the last time I visited him, I was nearly bald and he was the one sporting the long locks. How trivial our former confrontations seem now. Our communication was sometimes strained. I thought he didn’t understand my quest for freedom and purpose in life. Though now in perspective, I realized he understood more than I realized – it’s a shame we didn’t talk about it. He tended to be reticent and keep his thoughts to himself. In hindsight, which they say is always 20-20, I would have taken the time to understand his viewpoint more. After I had grown up and had a family of my own, I began to understand him during our visits together. As he shared the life changing moments of his time, like when he had escaped being stung to death from a swarm of angry bees by running away and jumping into the nearest river and covering himself with mud, or a time in WW2 when he missed death by only a few meters when the ammunition ship in front of his was blown up by a torpedo fired from a Japanese submarine. I discovered he wrote poems about what mattered to him. Through them I learned things out about him that I had never realized before. I knew he had sailed in ships, but not how much sailing meant to him until I read his poem. Sailing By Andrew C. Van Gorder I dream of having a sailboat Of my very own. I want to be able To go on a lake or bay And set my sails On a course That will take me far Away. I want to feel The sun on my face And the wind in my hair. I want to look up and see The sky And taste the spray. I want to hear the sounds Of my boat As it moves through the Water. I have this dream That keeps me Wanting to go on from here And know the joy and freedom Of my being. June 24, 1975 Somehow, after we read this poem, the nickname Captain Andy stuck among my brother and sister as my dad’s nickname. I also found out he volunteered his time as a Coast Guard inspector of recreational boats. There was a world of things I never took the time to learn what really mattered to him. I asked my dad if he had any advice for his children and grandchildren. His answer was, “Follow your dream.” A quote that hangs on his wall that was dear to him, written in beautiful calligraphy, reflects his philosophy. If a man does not keep pace with his companions, Perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, However measured or far away. Henry David Thoreau ("Walden," 1854) Throughout our years of struggling to do just that, and even sometimes when we were still formulating our goals in life, he worked hard to help us realize our dream whatever it was at that time and it often changed dramatically. When we foundered and got in a bind, he was there to bail us out, like the time I was held at the police office for climbing a tree at a city park and refused to come down. Dad was there for us when we needed him most. Captain Andy passed away a few months after our family reunion we had in his honor. But somehow he still feels near. I answered my dad that day when we walked in the woods, “Dad, I don’t need to look at clouds to keep your memory alive, you are right here,” I said as I touched my heart. If we take the time to discover our fathers we will discover a precious part of ourselves. Perhaps, we will better understand our roots and we will form bonds that will stretch out into eternity. The stories and experiences that our fathers have lived and pass on to us are treasures to pass on to our children – our true family heirlooms.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Jun 2013 18:42:12 +0000
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