“Grandma said you went to sea because you didn’t fit,” Brian said cautiously. “What did she mean by that, Grandfather? That you ‘didn’t fit’? Do I fit? Because I really don’t want to go to sea like you do.” He worried about the hardened, crude men he would be forced to encounter there and an arduous life that he could never endure. “I ain’t sure who fits anymore, son,” his grandfather said. “ It all depends on who you let set the rules of the game. You’ll find a place. Don’t worry. I just don’t get it. That’s what your grandmother tells me almost every day, ‘Walter, you just don’t understand how things work.’ Well, I guess I don’t, and I guess I never will. At sea it is different, boy. At sea there is a chain of command and I’m the one who makes the rules. I yell ‘jump’ and twenty seamen jump, never asking how high. Nobody questions, and nobody’s got to have a damn meeting about it. They do their job, I do mine, and we all come home safely, rich as pirate kings. It’s simple. No damn social order, no damn lawyers, and no damn women messing it all up with fancy parties and ‘proper ways’ of doing things.” “It doesnt seem like a good way to live, Grandfather. It sounds lonely.” “Nah… I ain’t ever lonely, boy. Very often I’m alone, but I ain’t ever lonely. Maybe that’s what makes me and some of the others different. Some people say ‘peculiar.’” AUTHOR’S NOTE—I have a feeling that many of my seagoing friends will find this passage particularly poignant.
Posted on: Wed, 08 Oct 2014 17:43:38 +0000
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