Thaddeus and The Labor Pains of a New Nation

                                     

  The Early Spring of 1774 had been very good for Thaddeus. An avid hunter, trapper, fisherman, and outdoorsman. He'd sold enough pelts over the past few months that he began staying near town to monitor the situation more closely. Animosity between the British and the colonists, especially the good people in Suffolk County, Massachusetts had become so heated that the British deemed Suffolk County as "rebel territory". Most of the ordinarily hard working men in Lexington now spent much of their mornings gathered together exchanging heated notions about what "they" should do next. The atmosphere was highly charged, and general belly aching was rapidly bubbling up into to some sort of collective colonial call to action. The ongoing and escalating overreach of England's distant King, Parliament, and their oppressive laws and decrees was pushing them to the breaking point. Thaddeus had read a number of pamphlets and publications himself and listened to twice as many men moaning "We're not going to stand for it anymore", but it all sounded like words and empty talk to Thaddeus. Although he'd grown up knowing every man and woman in and around Lexington, the only one he genuinely trusted was his childhood friend and now leader of the newly formed Minutemen, Captain John Parker. Upon hearing that he was in town, Captain Parker paid Thaddeus a visit in hopes of convincing him to join their growing ranks. The rebels were secretly stockpiling gunpowder, weapons, and other fighting materials over in Concorde. A confrontation with the Red Coats was imminent, and along with everyone else, Captain Parker knew that Thaddeus could handle a musket better than any man in all of Suffolk County. He wasn't notably larger than other men, but he was rugged, ruddy, and the flames of his new found passion for the resistance were raging.

    Captain Parker had warned the men that the British would surely send a force of men their way if they caught wind of the stockpile in Concorde, but they didn't think it would be so soon. It would be a few hours before the collum of Red Coats reached Lexington, but Thaddeus was up, dressed, and ready, as soon as he heard the man ride through town shouting, "The British are coming! The British are coming!" He equipped himself with his sharpest skinning knife, three loaded muskets, a loaf of bread, and enough powder and shot to fight for several days, if needed. He tried reading, writing, and sleeping to pass the time, but eventually, he saddled up and rode over to Captain Parker's house to wait. Just before 5 am, without as much as a mumble between them, Captain Paker emerged from his house. They saddled up and made quick time towards the fork in the road just East of Lexington. Men and teenage boys joined them, along the way, until their number swelled to about forty-five. When they arrived, they found another contingency of about thirty men already assembled on The Central Lexington Green. Captain Parker rounded everyone up and began issuing orders to make ready on the green in close order and formation. "It would prove nothing if I were to take on a bear with just my hands," Thaddeus thought to himself. "Perhaps we're waiting to disburse and take cover when the Red Coats arrive?" He wondered to himself. He took a knee and from inside his outer coat, Thaddeus produced several sheets of paper, which were carefully folded inside a leather cover. He gingerly removed a small quill pen and bottle of ink from his sack and hastily jotted down several words on the paper. With just as much care, the pen and papers were safely placed from whence they had come.


   Minutes seemed like weeks, as they waited, but just before sunrise Thaddeus and the other Minutemen could finally see the Redcoats marching towards them on the way to Concorde. They had sent a much larger group of men than had been expected. A crowd of townspeople had gathered near where the Minutemen had assembled to see what, if anything, might happen. As the British drew closer, the two sides exchanged loud insults. While marching in step and moving into the left fork in the main road, the British continued launching foul words and ill-will at the colonists. It was obvious that the Minutemen were still struggling to find enough courage to confront the finest fighting force on the planet, but this was their opportunity. The British stopped and held their typical tight formation, as they turned and faced the Minutemen. "Where are you going!?", asked the town blacksmith, Levi Meade, as Thaddeus knelt and slowly began crawling in the tall grass. "I didn't come here to throw words,"  Thaddeus said as he continued to slither in the knee-high grass. The tension was tangible. For a few moments, the well trained, well equipped, and well-fed British "Rum Swine", as Thaddeus called them, stood in their vivid red coats, black tricorn hats with muskets and bayonets at the ready. In front of them at a distance of about eighty yards was a rag-tag gaggle of under trained and under equipped business owners, taxpayers, and idealistic colonists. The future hung in the balance, as the question of whether or not the colonials would answer the call to action was heavy on the minds of everyone. As though hunting wild game, Thaddeus crept to within 40 yards of the British. His actions were seen by some as cowardly and out of order, but Thaddeus simply wanted to get close enough to get off an accurate shot or two. With neither warning nor word from Captain Parker, Thaddeus let his flint fall and set off a chain of events that is sending ripples around the world even to this day. His shot took off the ear of an unsuspecting Redcoat and was swiftly answered by a furious and precise volley of musket shot from the British that dropped fifteen Minutemen. The colonists returned fire and wounded two Redcoats. Thaddeus produced one of his pre-loaded muskets, and carefully placed a shot in the upper torso of a British soldier, scoring the first kill for the colonies in what would soon become an all out fight for freedom. Emboldened by their courage and action, other colonists joined the ranks of the Minutemen. The Redcoats turned and continued marching to Concorde. Along the way, Minutemen hid behind trees and in ditches and peppered the British with musket shot. The British reached Concorde and destroyed or took all of their fighting materials, but the message was clear. The colonists had reached the tipping point and were ready and willing to fight.


   Later that evening, Thaddeus put back a few pints at Mr. Samuel Adam's Public House, quietly wondering what his sweet Lydia would think of what he'd done that day. She was the fair daughter of, Francis Bernard, the British Governor of the Province of Massachusetts Bay. Through business dealings in Boston, he'd become acquainted with her and her father back in 1769. She could have easily been a play pretty for the who's-who in Boston, but that was against her new found sense of independence and industry. Against her father's better wishes, Lydia worked at a large horse stable, grooming, cleaning, and caring for horses. Thaddeus never failed to see her whenever he was in Boston and they routinely exchanged letters until her father ordered her to stop. To continue seeing and exchanging letters with Lydia, Thaddeus took work riding a route in Benjamin Franklin's colonial mail delivery service, where he shuttled mail between Cambridge, Waltham, and Lexington. He, Mr. Franklin, and a few others were hastily relieved in early 1774 for "distributing antagonistic publications" and he hadn't seen nor heard from her since. Thaddeus finished off his pint, made several more entries on the folded papers that he always kept with him, then returned home. He was uninjured but physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. It had been a long and monumental day and no one had a clue what the next day had in store for the colonists and their budding rebellion.


   Capitalizing on the momentum and the swiftly galvanizing resolve, preparations began immediately to assemble a meaningful force of men from all over the colonies to mount an attack and prevent the British from occupying the hills overlooking Boston.  Captain Parker tapped Thaddeus to lead a company of men, which he promptly and respectfully declined. "Captain Parker, I'm honored that my name came to mind as a suitable leader of this unit, but I believe I would serve the cause better while among the men and not in charge of them". After a few moments of pondering, Captain Parker answered, "I appreciate your honesty Thaddeus, and on second thought I believe you're correct. Having these men see your courage and bravery in the midst of battle would certainly better serve the greater good. So it shall be".  On June 17, 1775, Thaddeus found himself with a little over one thousand armed colonial soldiers, who were ready to March to Boston and take the fight to the Red Coats. Instead of setting up earthworks on Bunker Hill, as planned, they made preparations on Breed's Hill, which was a little closer to Boston. As the men built defensive positions, pre-loaded their muskets, and sharpened their knives, a small figure emerged from a nearby crowd of civilians, who had gathered to watch the battle. Despite the oversized outer garment and head covering, Thaddeus recognized her immediately and made quick time to greet her. She threw her arms open and they embraced for a short moment. She handed him a letter as her lip quivered, "Be careful today Thaddeus. I want to see you again when all of this fighting is over". Just then the first wave of British soldiers began marching towards the rebel positions. "Go! Please get behind the crowd and I will come find you today when this is over", he said as her hand slipped out of his.


    Though shot was scarce for the rebels, a few sessions of aiming practice made an enormous difference. The British sought to push the colonists from their positions by throwing superior numbers at them, but that worked against them. The Rum Swine carried the day, but lost three times the number of men as the colonial soldiers. Thaddeus had been grazed just below the knee during the battle and lost a fair amount of blood. Bandaged and hobbling, Thaddeus searched and searched for sweet Lydia, but she was not to be found. He was loaded onto a wagon for the wounded and while riding back to Lexington, once again pulled out his important papers and wrote, as best he could with all of the bouncing and jostling. His leg continued to bleed through his wrappings, and he grew increasingly weaker. Off in the distance, he could see the smoky haze hanging over the battlefield and he a sense of pride washed over him. Though he wouldn't live to see it, the British withdrew from Boston a short time after the Battle of Bunker Hill. Struggling now to maintain consciousness, Thaddeus summoned a nearby soldier to call Captain Parker to the wagon. He cautiously wrapped his papers back in their leather cover and waited. Soon enough, Captain Parker rode up to the wagon and came alongside Thaddeus. "John, these papers," he said while stretching to reach him and fighting to speak. "You didn't know this sir, but I write songs. I beg you to pass these papers along to my sweet Lydia. You'll find her in the stables just outside of Cambridge. Only she will know what to do with them." It will be done", John said as he took the papers from Thaddeus. "You started this fight Thaddeus, and I will endeavor with all that is in me to see it through."


    Given the importance of the delivery, Captain Parker sent Major Tom to deliver the papers and let Thaddeus's sweet Lydia know that he passed away after fighting ever so valiantly. Through her tears, Lydia told Major Tom that she left the battle that day after seeing Thaddeus get shot in the leg. She simply couldn't bear to watch any longer and returned to the stables. Though she had never seen them, Thaddeus had, in fact, told her about his papers and that he liked to write down ideas for songs. She took the papers and climbed up into the loft in the stable. She carefully unfolded his papers and softly read aloud...


Fight For Your Right To Party-    beer swilling and song singing at the pub
Living On A Prayer -                    alone in the woods tracking a lion 
Another Day In Paradise -           seeing the beauty of The Maker's creation
Welcome To The Jungle -             when i took james hunting Moose in New Hampshire
Summer of 69 -                             when I met my dear sweet Lydia
We're Not Going To Take It -        frequent cry of the angry mob in Lexington
Please Don't Go -                        when sweet Lydia had to return to Boston
Are You Getting It -                      talking with stubborn people
Here I Go Again -                        another day delivering mail
Rebel Yell -                                  battle cry
Lord, I Hope This Day is Good   prayer before leaving to fight
More Than A Feeling -               marching to Boston with the men!
Three Times a Lady -                  seeing Lydia just before Bunker Hill
Don't Stop Believing -                we lost a battle today, but the war can be ours!


Carefully, she refolded the papers, sat back and smiled from the inside out. She knew exactly what to do with them. Over the course of her life, Lydia put words to his songs and when her days were over, the papers were passed along again...

Perspective at the Pier

     "I said, 'NO ONIONS!' Her words were razor sharp and launched at the woman behind the counter with unprovoked ill-will and the obvious intent to insult or injure. She oozed impatience and indignation that her food hadn't been prepared to order the first time. Seemingly immune to the vibes fired her way, Ruby quickly and politely handed her another dog without onions, "Here you go. I've got you all fixed up." It was Ruby's second day working at Ben's Beach Dogs, which was within eyesight of the Tybee Island Pier. Her new coworkers looked at Ruby in amazement that she didn't even acknowledge the woman's attitude. Only God and Ruby knew the storms she had been through to be where she was, and this uptight customer gazing at her haughtily was a soft breeze. "And what should I do with the one you messed up?!".........

   Just two days before, Ruby had worked the last day of a thirty-year run at The Lucky Lanes in North Augusta. To call it a run down Bowling dive was an enormous compliment. It was the favored hang out of an aging and aimless rabble of regulars, all of whom she had served and endured for three decades. After running away from home at sixteen, Ruby needed income and unfortunately, The Lucky Lanes was hiring that day. Regardless of their age, every one of the regulars had hit on Ruby at least once or twice over the past thirty years. Playfully now, they still tested her from time to time, but she had long since mastered the art of shredding them with sarcasm and clever wit. As if trapped in a lost era, The Lucky Lanes decor was unchanged from its original design back in 1977. A good many lights were out, a light coat of snack bar grease covered every surface but the bowling balls, and a decades-old stagnant cloud of smoke hung in the air. The sounds from '77 still bounced off the gray cave walls. Bowling balls crashing into pins, the cling-cling-clang from the same old pinball games, and from now and then a loud whoop and holler from a lucky bowler. For years she had stared into the hanging clouds of cigarette smoke daydreaming about dressing nicely, putting her hair up, and working on something important in an office downtown. She was a hard worker and plenty smart, but never quite figured out how to add school to her long days and years of working and raising a son.

   Her boy was twenty-seven now and his overexposure to The Lucky Lanes clientele and atmosphere had shaped him into just what the world didn't need another one of. A self-serving, uninspired, excuse making jerk.  The closest thing to a father or grandfather he'd known were the beer guzzling daily regulars at The Lucky Lanes. After years of waiting for him to snap out of it and show some signs of decency and responsibility, Ruby was ready. Not really sure for what, but she knew she was ready for new scenery and a new chapter, and for the first time in her life, Ruby believed that she had the pen in her hand to write that chapter. She'd never seen the beach except in her high school classmates facebook pictures. It looked beautiful and she desperately wanted to go there.

   She spent months and all her cell phone data studying beaches in South Carolina, Georgia, and down into Florida, but the beach near Savannah, called Tybee Island, seemed to be exactly what she was looking for. Of course, it was impossible for her to drive there to look for work, so Ruby called and called and called for weeks and weeks looking for anything. Her dream of dressing up and working in an office turned into living and working on Tybee Island. She began scraping and saving every penny, as she slowly began turning her dream into reality. One she got a call from Ben of Ben's Beach Dogs on Tybee Island. He wanted to do a phone interview. Her heart raced and she barely contain her excitement. After several minutes on the phone, Ben told her that she sounded like exactly what they were looking for and he wanted her to start right away. Her mind raced, while they spoke. "I have no place to stay.., what if I don't have enough money saved?... what if he doesn't like me?..." She stretched the cord from the snack bar phone and stepped into the pantry to finish their conversation. Ben mentioned that he had a tiny loft apartment above the store if she was interested. A rare tear of joy crawled out of her eye and slowly rolled down her cheek and rested on her quivering lips, as she tightly clutched the phone and told Ben with gutsy conviction, "I'm on the way."

     She immediately took off her apron and found the owner. "Larry, I forgot to put in my two-week notice two weeks ago, so... I'm really sorry, but today is my last day."  Hearing her own words gave her, even more, self-confidence and determination, and she finally began to see her new chapter coming to life. After hearing of her plan, Larry gave Ruby her final check, wished her well, and at 10:03 am, Ruby turned and walked out the doors of The Lucky Lanes for the last time and without even a second look, she drove to her run down rental house to throw her things together. It was here and it was NOW. Opportunity was knocking and she was hell bent on answering it. Months and months of yard sales and Goodwill donations left Ruby with little more than a pillow, some clothes, and a few pictures, pots, and pans, all of which fit into two small overnight bags, which she could easily manage. She pulled the taped bible verse off the bathroom mirror (Deut 31:6) and put in her purse, took one more look around, then closed the door. She was gone. Ruby stopped at the Circle K and for the first time ever, completely filled her gas tank. By 11:00 am Ruby was loaded up, filled up, and headed out. Her Rand McNally map and some snacks rode shotgun with her, as she pulled onto  I-20 West Bound with all of her windows down. She was scared, but she had never felt so alive. The countryside was beautiful as the miles rolled by. She made her way through Augusta, Wrens, and then Louisville. It was just south of Swainsboro that years and years of neglect began to catch up with her old Grand Prix. It was badly out of alignment and had been shaking for miles, and now it was to running hot too. She slowed down to 45 mph, turned on her emergency flashers, and kept pushing towards Tybee.

    East Bound on I-16 and still creeping along at 45 mph, cars and big trucks flew by her one after the other. Some blowing their horns. The temperature gage was now well past the red "H" and steam was rolling out from under the hood. The Metter exit, which was only four miles ahead, became her short term goal. But it wasn't meant to be. She'd been giggling to herself and wondering which would happen first, the wheels wobble off or the motor lock up. Well, she got her answer about three miles outside of Metter when the motor made a clunk noise then went eerily silent. She put it into neutral and without power steering wrestled the car into the emergency lane rolled as far as it would roll before coming to a complete stop. With little hesitation, she pulled her hair back into a rubber band, grabbed her two bags, and left the car right where it sat. Key in the ignition, windows down, and a mixture of white steam and smoke billowing out from under the hood. There's was no time for towing and repairs for a car she realized that she wouldn't need in her new home. She'd left it set out on foot. 'I'll use the car repair money on a bus ticket to Savannah and a beach bicycle when I get to Tybee. As she began walking, she quickly missed the breeze that had been blowing through the car windows. It was hot. It was South Georgia July hot and much hotter than she imagined it would be if it absolutely came to this, but she was on a mission. Three became two, two became one, then she found herself walking up the exit ramp at Metter. Her shirt, hair, and jeans were drenched in sweat and she felt very weak. She spotted a convenience store called Cliftons just across the interstate, where she planned to cool off and figure out the rest of her journey. She caught a glimpse of herself as she opened the glass doors. She was quite a sight and got several odd looks, as she walked around in the store clinging to her two pieces of luggage, which contained everything she owned. The kind old woman at the register told her there weren't any bus or trains stations within forty or fifty miles. Ruby bought a large water and walked back outside to see what she come up with. As she walked, the lady and her husband met eyes and nodded at one another.

   Ruby was deeply bewildered now and slowly melted down into the sidewalk beside her bags. She thought to herself, "I probably look homeless and desperate." Then she realized that homeless and desperate perfectly described her current situation. She reminded herself that the entire reason for any of this was to improve her situation and this was just a stop along the way. A stop that she knew one day she'd look back on. Ruby's thoughts raced, as she told herself over and over. "This is not how this chapter ends, this is not how this chapter ends, this is not how this chapter ends." Despite her fierce independence and will to push on, her body simply wasn't in any shape to even consider walking the remaining eighty miles. she sat there as a steady flow of traveling vacationers came and went to the fuel pumps. They were loaded down with beach chairs, beach umbrellas, jet skis, coolers, and pulling boats. Finally she'd had enough. "Ok., I have money and I can pay someone to take me the rest of the way", she thought. But after approaching over forty motorists, it was only truck drivers that showed any interest in giving her a ride and she knew she was too weak to fight if she happened to get in a truck with the wrong man. Just then the sweet old lady from behind the counter came up to her, Ruby assumed to shew her away from the store. "Jimmy is pulling our car around and we want, I mean, we are taking you to Tybee." she said with an intense, but warm gaze. "That is awfully nice ma'am, but honestly I can't let you do that", Ruby said as she pushed up to her feet to meet the lady's eyes. "Now you listen here young lady, Jimmy and I sit here all day long ringing up customers, but it's people in predicaments like yours that we look for, that we live for, that make us feel useful for Him," she said sternly and honestly. "Jimmy and I lost our daughter in a car accident a long time ago and as far as I'm concerned, you're our little girl today. Jimmy and I are going to buy you a good lunch, and we're going to take you to Tybee and we're going to get you all situated. I'm sorry honey, but there's nothing you can do or say that will change our minds."

   Ruby was numb. It was completely against her nature to accept help from anyone because they usually just wanted something in return, but she could tell that by accepting their help that she was helping them. Besides, she was going to pay them even if she had to tuck the money in the back seat of their car. They got to know each other a little better over a good home style meal and around 5pm Ruby was back on I-16 in the back seat of their car. She pulled out her pillow and laid down in the back seat and pretended to go to sleep. She buried her face and quietly cried. She cried old tears. Old tears from wounds had festered for decades and needed to be healed. She was physically and emotionally drained and slept soundly for twenty or thirty minutes. She woke up feeling completely revived and thought to herself, "I'm so glad I'm doing this. I'm so proud of myself." In no time, they were driving down Bay Street in Savannah then slowly heading out the causeway to Tybee. They reached Ben's Beach Dogs close to 6:30 and the warm salty breeze and the beach atmosphere welcomed her. She met and quickly apologized to Ben for her appearance but politely and sincerely asked if he needed her to start working right away. "Look, you've been traveling all day and must be exhausted", he said with a warm smile. "It's really not much, but there's a tiny loft apartment above the shop. It's all yours if you want to stay there. I'll see you in the morning around 9 and we'll show you the ropes." Jimmy took her bags up to her room and tucked a $100 bill into one of them. Ruby hugged Linda & Jimmy and they said their goodbyes. Ruby was now all by herself in this new world. She didn't bother going to the apartment but slowly made her way towards the beach. Her dirty hair blew in the ocean air and she looked like hell, but her face was beaming with utter joy, as she walked out to the end of the pier, which she had only seen on the internet. She'd only been gone for several hours, but thoughts of Larry and the old codgers back at The Lucky Lanes were quickly fading. She traded in her blue jeans and worn out "The Lucky Lanes" shirt for a bright sun dress and a beach shell barrette for her hair. The next morning she walked the beach at sunrise and then to work at 9 am feeling like a completely new woman. A woman with the ink pen in her hand writing a new chapter.


   .... The woman barked at Ruby again, "I SAID.., what should I do with this one that YOU messed up?" while shaking the dog with onions. Ruby calmly looked at her with a smile, "Honey, I'm sorry you're having a rough day. That was in on me."

Chapter Two

“She’s A Beaut, she’s a Beaut, she’s a blind, deaf, mute!” he sang loud and obnoxiously, as he stood at the Captain’s wheel pushing the throttle handle up almost to the very top. The entire boat vibrated, and the props vigorously churned the water, as they made the final push on the massive ‘COSCO Development’ container ship. For the last few hours they’d guided and wrestled her up the Savannah River to the dock and massive cranes at the Garden City Port. Ike’s radio crackled with the all clear signal from the skipper of the COSCO and Ike motioned to his first mate, “Sack”. In a few minutes, Ike had his Tugboat headed towards the Talmadge Bridge in route to his mooring at Fig Island. As he passed under the bridge, he checked his watch again. “Sack, when we get Bessie tied in, go ahead and fire up the skiff.” Sack smiled as he looked back, “Yes sir. You cuttin’ it close again ain’t you?” With a steady forward gaze, Ike replied, “Looks that way.” They stood side by side and soaked in the predawn view of the river street lights reflecting off the glassy river. Their 9-5 shift had come to an end, but Ike’s day was just getting under way.  As Ike went below deck to finish shutting down the massive twin Volvo Diesels, Sack started up the outboard on the 20’ Carolina Skiff. Ike never slowed down as he walked from Bessie, up the dock, and right onto the skiff. He walked with intention and purpose. Time was short. “She needs some TLC. See you tonight at seven thirty. I’ll bring supper.” Ike paused for a moment. “Sack, you know, we haven’t talked a good while. You still holding strong?” Sack replied with confidence, while standing on the dock holding the untied line from the bow of the Skiff, “I am. I’m better now than I’ve ever been.” With that Ike nodded, smiled, and pushed the throttle forward. Ike was headed further down river. He checked his watch and just as he suspected, seconds were precious.     

  Immediately after high school, Ike left the family farm in Plainville, Kansas and headed to the coast. He made it to Galveston, where he worked as a deckhand on a shrimp boat. It was demanding work, but growing up on a big farm had prepared Ike for the daily demands of life on a shrimp boat. He had helped deliver calves, walked barefoot through many fresh cow patties, and routinely axed, plucked, and boiled chicken for supper. But his stomach wasn’t keen to the tossing and rolling of the Gulf’s swells. It took him a solid year of being sea-sick every day before he finally got his sea legs. Ike lived on his boss’s shrimp boat to save money to pay for college classes and after five long years of shrimping and studying, Ike earned a degree in Marine Transportation from Texas A&M Maritime Academy. His family was excited and devastated at the same time. They knew he was bound for the vast open waters and ports around the world, but they also knew that his face would rarely be seen in Plainville perhaps ever again. According to plan, Ike landed work with a large container shipping company. He traveled the seven seas and saw many incredible sights and met many interesting people, he soon learned in the ports of Singapore, Hamburg, Rotterdam, New York, and Sydney that he was his own worst enemy. Alcohol, cards, and local women were his favorite recipe. But no matter how he mixed them the outcome was always the same. An ugly shipwreck. His long-term goal was to reach the rank of Merchant Marine Captain and pilot his own container ship. However, he spent his energy, money, and time on frequent barroom brawls, bail money, and the plastic smiles from the girl of the day. He wasted close to ten years before he literally found himself on a fishing boat just off the coast of Manilla. Still drunk from a long night in town, Ike had dozed off and fallen overboard. He broke his arm in the fall and damn near drowned in the wake of the ship, but it was exactly what he needed. Ike had to pay for a flight to Shanghai to meet up with the ship, the skipper, and have a little sit down with some corporation executives, where he begged and pleaded for one final chance. He did a lot of thinking and self-assessing while waiting for his ship to come in. No thanks to church folks, Ike had become well acquainted with his Maker and was convinced that it was Him who gently nudged him into the Pacific. That chapter was behind and he was wide awake now. He’d wasted so much precious time, but his dream was well within reach. He buckled down and got serious. Once fully focused, it took Ike just two years to earn his Upper Tonnage Captain’s license. In June of 1987 Ike began working for Maersk and took the helm of his first ship, The Maersk Palermo. She was a large container ship with a gross tonnage of 33,000 tons, that hauled containers between The Netherlands and Canada. Over the next thirty years, the North Atlantic provided many difficult nautical challenges and many long cold lonely journeys, as he plowed the waters of the North Atlantic and plowed his earnings into the bank. He had achieved his goal and been very successful, but there was something more. When Ike became fully vested in the company stock plan, he began making a new plan. A plan that would take him back to warmer waters. Of all the ports he’d seen around the world, it was Savannah, Georgia that charmed and intrigued him. In due time, Ike retired from Maersk, bought a tugboat named Bessie in Boston, then bumped along the coast until he arrived in Savannah, where he’d operated his tugboat company for the past three years.

  Ike cleared Fort Pulaski then eased up Lazaretto Creek to the fishing dock at CoCo’s, where he tied off, grabbed his Beach Cruiser, and began pushing peddles. “They can’t build the back-water dock soon enough!”, Ike thought as he kept a brisk pace, while periodically glancing at his watch. He made his way to the lighthouse, through the public beach access, and onto the beach in good time. He glanced at his watch and time was no longer an issue. Towards the end of the previous summer, Ike began a Beach Porter Service, which served ten of the largest hotels and condos on the island. His company provided delivery and set up services for vacationers in need of help carrying and setting up tents/umbrellas, or to bring them ice during the day, if needed. His normal routine was to nap on the Tug for a few hours after his shift ended then hit Tybee around 10 to meet his employees and make sure all of the service requests were filled. A few weeks ago, Ike came over early to sleep on the beach and catch the sunrise. That’s when he saw her. A fresh flower in her sandy brown hair gently waved in the breeze, as she rode by. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a light red flowered beach shirt that also gently waved in the breeze. To top it all off she wore a smile, but not just any smile. Her smile was a smile of peace, confidence, and sincerity. He chuckled to himself, “I suppose she thinks I’m a homeless bum laying out here on a towel.” She hadn’t even noticed him. She wasn’t even aware that she was smiling. She’d done that almost every day since she got to Tybee.