Where is the boat?

This story is dedicated to Roberta who never fails to remind me of one of my major screw ups when we are having family gatherings.

In the summer of my 17th year mom and dad took a day trip from Washington Island to Green Bay. They decided to leave Ann and I at home because there were chores that needed to be done. And if the truth be told they probably wanted a day alone without us. Before they left, dad reminded me of all the chores that he wanted completed by the time they got home.

I had invited my step cousin Glenn over to spend the day with me and deviously planned to have him help me with the chores. About mid-morning I decided it was time to take a break from the chores and go see a girl I had met that worked at a local store called the Ship’s Rib. I knew a way to do this, even though we didn’t have a car, was to take the Lyman speedboat over to the dock at the Ship’s Rib. I could justify this trip by using the excuse that I was bailing the water from the boat that had collected during the previous night’s storm. It was a fairly simple operation. First I instructed Glenn to open the seacock and then with a couple of passes around Peterson’s Bay the boat would be dry and we could proceed with the true reason for the trip. We arrived at the Ship’s Rib and spent the next half hour wooing the fair maidens, or at least our version of it.  We then headed back to the house. After the boat was tied up we continued with the chores that dad had assigned.

At lunchtime we sat at the dining room table and ate. We looked out the picture window at the dock and harbor as we ate our sandwiches. It suddenly dawned on us that we did not see the Lyman tied up at the dock. We rushed to the dock thinking that the boat had somehow become adrift. When we got to the spot where it was tied, we could see the bow and stern lines leading from the dock to the boat, which was now resting on the harbor bottom. At that point it dawned on me what happened, and I turned to Glen and asked, “You didn’t close the seacock did you?” Wherein Glenn replied, “You didn’t tell me to”. The conversation that ensued after this was somewhat heated. After blame was properly assigned, we decided it might be time to refloat the boat. We quickly changed into our swimming suits and got out the fire pump. By raising the boat gunnels to water level and removing the water with the fire pump, the boat was soon floating again. Of course, this only happened after the seacock was closed.

Later that day Ann asked me if I wanted to go over to a friend’s house with her. As we drove the car hood flew up and bent over the windshield. Fortunately, we were able to bend it back down well enough to drive home. As a result, Ann was very apprehensive about how to explain the occurrence to mom and dad when they returned from their outing. We knew they would be on one of the last ferries and we also knew they would be worn out from their trip.

When mom and dad arrived home, we quickly helped them unload the car and mom started cooking dinner. At the dinner table Ann and I quietly ate our respective dinners and tried to figure out how we were going to explain the day’s events.

Dad initiated the conversation by asking if we had gotten all the assigned chores done. He then asked how the day had gone. The tension was too much for Ann and she started crying and told dad what had happened to the car hood. After calmly listening to Ann’s explanation dad soothed her and told her sometimes these things can’t be helped.

Then it was my turn. Again, dad asked what I had been up to during the day, and I told him about the chores I had completed with Glenn’s help and about bailing the boat. Conveniently forgetting the part about seeing the girl. This conversation was held while we were eating our dinner and in between bites. Finally, dad asked the crucial question, “how did the boat run?” I replied, “it ran fine this morning.” Something in my tone set off alarms in his head. “What do you mean it ran well this morning? Doesn’t it run good now? What happened?” My mind played with the idea that there was still a chance to avoid telling the truth. I lowered my head, took another bite of my dinner, lowered my voice and mumbled, ” it sank.” Initially, it looked like my ploy worked because he quietly ducked his head and took another bite of dinner. Then the realization of what I said dawned on him and the intensity of the conversation increased exponentially when he asked, “It What?”

What followed was my quick synopsis of how the event occurred. The crux, as I saw it, was that Glenn didn’t have the sense to close the seacock without being told. This, however, did not go over well with Frank C. Gordon and what ensued was a lecture about the responsibilities that went along with the title of “Captain”.

The next day we pulled the boat, fixed the engine and returned the boat to its place at the dock. What a nice father and son activity…hmmm…maybe!!

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