Faith and belief

My walls…

by taohobo

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wall to Wall.”

Hangs our life, little pieces of it, memories in frames. Boldness, fearlessness, is on our walls, – the painters asked twice, “Are you sure this is the color you wanted?” Small shelves honor ceramic art by our sons, carvings, and photos too. Life is on our walls, wall to wall.

The rest of the story…

by taohobo

I left off the About me story (see: What’s This Guy Doing Here?) adrift in the Pacific off the coast of Hawaii.

That seemed ok, it must have been obvious that I was saved somehow and the saving part wasn’t important to that Blogging 101 assignment. But, was certainly important to me. So here’s the rest of the story.

Just as I was wondering what I was doing in that predicament I looked up toward the Gridley to see if I was making any progress. What I saw was my friend and shipmate Andy Mott charging down the port side, coiling line (rope to you non-nautical readers) as fast as he could. I started swimming harder, keeping my eye on Andy – something they train you to do as a rescue swimmer. He slid down the port side ladder onto the fantail and raced aft. As he skidded to a stop just short of the stern, he wound up and heaved the bitter end (the loose end) of that line for all he was worth. It uncoiled in slow motion, Andy leaned out, extending his right arm…

Straight and true, every inch of it extended, the end of that line dropped about five feet in front of me. I lunged, grabbed it, and let Andy reel me in. Saved!

EPILOGUE

You’d think I’d have stayed in touch with the man who saved my life but no, such is youth, the military, life, that you loose touch with even the important people in your life. This WordPress Blogging University assignment was to write a post to your dream audience. I wasn’t sure what audience that was at first. I thought of a lot of different audiences that I had had in mind for different postings over the years. But it seemed fitting that this should be for an audience I literally owe my life to – and yes, I do know that there are many more of you out there – so Andy Mott, if you stumble across this, let me know. Or at least know that I’ve never forgotten.

What’s this guy doing here?

by taohobo

That’s basically the same question I asked myself when at 20 I found myself in the Pacific, swimming as fast as I  could, as the Gridley drifted toward the far horizon.

Maybe that story says something about why I write, why I blog, who I am.

I had grown up in a Navy family, traveling here and there. Picking the wrong entry into higher education, then the Daytona Beach Community College, when I fancied myself a surfer, ended with the first semester. So, a couple of short stories later, finding my employer’s business seized and padlocked, hitchhiking to Ohio, I was avoiding the draft in the Navy. Naturally, see my blog, Teacher’s Pet, the key is in there, I’d choose the Navy.

I was a young Boatswain’s Mate, the ship’s swimmer, and we were on an exercise off the coast of Hawaii – way off the coast, even from the bridge you couldn’t see the island. We’d ended the exercise because the seas, while calm, – it’s a Pacific thing – were running 10-15 feet and we needed to recover the small unmanned remotely controlled boat that had been part of the exercise. As the swimmer I got to go aboard the Boston Whaler and attach the  block (a technical bosun’s term) to the whaler so it could be hoisted back aboard the USS Gridley (DLG 21). I won’t take the time to fully explain what was happening or why self-compensating davits are important and will just tell you that with 10-15 seas Gridley was rolling 15 degrees to starboard then 15 degrees to port. That 60 degree difference would dump the block, a lot of heavy metal cable into the whaler on the roll to port and then yank it and the whaler up and out on the roll to starboard. Not what Boston Whalers are built for!

So when the whaler starts to break apart and I see that my safety line is hopelessly tangled in the block and cable I had cut myself loose and went overboard. It seemed a smart idea at the time – considering the condition of the whaler when it was recovered it still seems a smart idea.

But I was upwind of the Gridley and she was presenting a lot of surface area to the prevailing wind, actually leaving a shadow of wake as she sailed downwind. Being young, strong, a good swimmer, doesn’t mean you can out swim a situation like that. And, that’s when I started asking myself, ‘What am I doing here?’.

And that’s about 1/50 th (a wildly unsupported statistic) of who I am.