All posts by Jim

The Stars Early Wednesday Morning

A Pocket of Resistance

Wednesday, October 4, 2023.
the sun had obeyed the meridian
and
was rising later;
the sky was dark,
well before first light;
there were no clouds:
only the street light
and
next door’s outdoor light
impacted my night vision
slightly
and
there were more stars
than i had seen in at least a year.
Venus, Regulus, Sirius, Jupiter
spoke to me
and
i returned to when
the skies filled the heavens
like lights on a Christmas tree
only doubled or tripled up,
a wonderful sight
i only saw at sea
like the Indian Ocean
oh so many years ago
when i would take a break
from my tasks as number two,
walk out to the weather decks,
stand at the safety rail,
looking skyward
thinking not of the stars
but
of you,
glorious, beautiful you
so, so right
for me.

Joseph, Did You Really Drink Singapore Slings?

A Pocket of Resistance, Sea Stories

i sat in the dark in my comfortable non-reclining chair, reclining…sort of. It was in what is called, i think, the “family room” after being a “den” for as long as i can remember. Either took the living out of the “living room.” Blythe’s mother and i once owned a home in Bryan, adjacent College Station, Texas which had a “great room.” It was a living room and den/family room combination. Cool idea, but it wasn’t particularly “great.” Good plan, though.

But i digress.

i’m sitting in the darkened room with only a night light on the other side providing any light at all. You see, we’ve had smatterings of rain through the day, and some more serious stuff, like may a quarter of an inch predicted through the night. Kidding, right? Rain in the Southwest corner at the end of September. RAIN! Folks, this is Santa Ana season, when the highs sitting over us brings desert hot air, zero humidity, and high winds we call “Santa Ana’s” after the long ago Mexican egotist who killed Davy Crockett at the Alamo and eventually got his just due from Sam Houston: Tennesseans, you see. It is supposed to be wildfire season and the weather guessers keep playing it up while wearing rain gear.

But i digress. You have probably figured out by now that i digress a lot.

Because i sat in the darkened room and simply let my mind rest and roam, thinking about all of the things on which i could digress.

But i digress.

The Padres penultimate game in a season disappointing to most was long over. Maureen had gone to bed so she wouldn’t have to watch the end as that as been a continuing depressing couple of innings nearly all season long. i, being a contrarian and an old, old sports writer, take a different slant. This has been one of the most interesting teams i’ve ever watched in any sport. i found the drama interesting. And the old sportswriter remained true to his rule of watching all sports events to the end, because as Yogi Berra said, “It ain’t over ’til it’s over,” and what i thought was generated by Casey Stengel but, in fact, was first uttered by Ralph Carpenter, the Texas Tech sports information director when Texas A&M came back to tie the to tie the Red Raiders in 1976 for a 72–72 tie late in the Southwest Confernce tournament finals in 1976. The Red Raiders won 74-72, but Carpenter’s comment has become legendary, but Carpenter hasn’t gotten the credit he deserved.

But i digress.

For you see, in the dark of night, i closed my eyes and i saw things i could not see in the light.

After that ball game, i returned to Joseph Conrad, reading his “Youth: a Narrative” of a sea story of the 19th century gone south, about as bad as it could get. In years past long ago, i was close enough to understand.

i could feel it. Feel it.

As i read with intensity as the old hulk of a ship was meeting its demise. i could feel it intensely, intensely enough to stop reading for the night.

i closed the book, the short story would be completed. But not tonight.

When you are my age and not an abject politician, i think most of us spend a great deal of time in reflexion of our past.

Sitting here in the dark, Joseph Conrad and i reflected. Mr. George Dickel of Tullahoma, Tennessee helped us along. And i thought of Conrad and how he could conjure up tales of disaster in the Gulf of Thailand. i wondered how close he got to the dangers of those years with wooden ships, sails still competing with steam, and peril. My peril in my sailing days was slight compared to Conrad’s but when ti happened, it was real, very real.

i think there is a bond with sailors and the sea. i feel it when i read Conrad. i live with it as a part of me.

Thank you, Joseph. i think of you now. i thought of you when i was in Singapore in the old Raffles Hotel, your hangout. Because of you, i ordered the original Singapoer Sling in that bar where you sat with the one leather belt driven fans with arms of bamboo gently rotating quietly while the waiters in sarongs wandered about. Did you like these things that taste like sweet cough syrup?

Think i’ll stick with Mr. Dickel and gin martinis.

A Tale of the Sea and Me (For Sam) – Installment 29

Sea Stories

This was supposed to be a copy of one of my Lebanon Democrat columns i wrote about my father, whose 109th birthday was yesterday. But my technically-challenged war with computer searches left me bereft, unable to find that column. So i have reinvented that experience below:

Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii, August, 1975 — It had been the busiest and most rewarding (and unexpected) deployment of my Navy career. It ended with one of the most satisfying and father-connecting moments in our lives.

James Rye Jewell, Sr., lifetime Lebanon, Tennessee resident and master mechanic who had spent his only two years living out of his small country town in the Seabees in the South Pacific cauldron of World War II, arrived a day earlier and took a helicopter tour of the island. The next day, USS Anchorage (LSD 36), with the sea detail officer of the deck and conning officer being James Rye Jewell, Jr., passed through Mamala Bay into the channel and moored pier side at the Naval Station at Pearl Harbor. Unlike most of my stops in Pearl going and coming from a WESTPAC deployment, it was a short stay. About a dozen or so of male relatives and friends, including my father, came onboard for the “Tiger Cruise” back to San Diego.

A “Tiger Cruise,” in my opinion, was a brilliant PR move by the Navy. When the opportunity arose in a non-combat possible time at sea, sailors and officers were allowed to sponsor a relative or friend to join them for a short time at sea. i believe this program still exists.

Our “Tiger Cruise” was the last leg of a seven-month deployment. The tigers were checked in, taken to their berthing and unpacked. It was late afternoon when my father joined me on the bridge to get underway. He stood by my side as i walked the ship from the pier turned it and maneuvered out the channel and turned east north east on a great circle route to the Southwest corner. When we cleared the sea buoy, sea detail was secured and he and i went below. i showed him my stateroom. He went to a meeting for the Tigers, i did a bit of paper work and we met in the wardroom for the evening mess. Afterwards, he walked about the ship and i did a bit more work in my office until the evening watch (2000-2400) as OOD. He joined me.

Daddy spent almost two hours with me. The squadron was returning together but it was almost independent steaming. i gave the conn to my Junior Officer of the Deck (JOOD) soon after relieving the watch. Daddy and i walked out to the starboard bridge wing, watched the other ships while i explained formation steaming. We looked at the heavens and i explained celestial navigation and some adventures we had experienced on the deployment.

Then, Daddy asked me how my sailors, the crew in deck department felt about the cruise.

Now, my father was raised a Presbyterian and became a Methodist when he married a woman whose grandfather had been a circuit rider and became a bishop in the Methodist church. My father’s mother had given him, and consequently me and my neice, Kate Jewell, the middle name of “Rye.” This was in honor of Charles Thomas Rye who was running and subsequently won the governor of Tennessee election in 1915 running as an ardent prohibitionist. Other than a decanter of whiskey to flavor the women’s boiled custard after holiday meals, there was no alcohol in our house.

i told him the sailors were okay with the deployment, but were very unhappy we had spent very little time in liberty and maintenance period at the Subic Bay US Naval base in the Philippines.

When he asked why they were unhappy with the amount of time in Subic, i told him why. Since 1946, the United States Navy had a presence there, and it became the major US base in the South Pacific. the town of Olangapo across the bridge from the base over “shit river” had been built for Filipinos who worked on the base. It had become the closest resemblance to Fiddlers’ Green in perhaps the world. Sailors went on liberty to chase women. Bars, night clubs, and casinos were the primary businesses and sailors found prostitutes, wild women, San Miguel beer, were available for cheap. Fights, street food that could wipe out your innards were available 24/7. The sailors and officers alike loved it. Most of the married ones considered themselves geographic bachelors.

Daddy was taken aback, amazed this was such an desired place for sailors. He wasn’t ready to accept it. We talked some more until he retired around 2000.

The ship conducted tours and activities for the Tigers, and he spent a large amount of the five day transit with me while i stood watch and did my work. When he wasn’t with me or occupied by the scheduled events, he went, mostly to areas under my supervision and talked to sailors. He spent quite a bit of time talking to my sailors.

When sea detail was set as we approached our return to San Diego, he again joined me on the bridge. After sea detail had been set, there was still a lull in my duties before we reached the sea buoy marking the entry into the channel. We went out on the port bridge wing and admired Point Loma. Daddy looked at me and said still with amazement, “Son, you are right. I’m not sure i will ever understand why?”

He was an incredible man, but he wasn’t a sailor.