An Easter reminiscence: Rescue at sea

At this holiest time of year, it is natural to be drawn to the seashore. Many of the Gospel passages place Jesus Christ’s whereabouts near the sea. I am a believer, and I feel His presence here. This is holy ground.

After the Resurrection, St. John writes, “Later, at the sea of Tiberias, Jesus showed himself to the disciples… Just after daybreak Jesus was standing on the shore, though none of the disciples knew it was Jesus… Then the disciple Jesus loved cried out to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!’”

In another passage in the Gospel of St. Mark, he writes that “when evening came, the boat was out on the sea, and (Jesus) was alone on the land. And He saw that they were distressed in rowing, for the wind was against them… He came to them, walking on the sea… He spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; have no fear.’ And He got into the boat with them and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded.’”

Two thousand years later, I walk along the water’s edge and remember the many times I cried out to the Lord from this very place.

A young newlywed, I recall the night my new husband and brother went fishing and did not return. I still remember the anguish, countless prayers and call to the Coast Guard. They were towed in by the Tiverton Harbor Patrol around midnight, after being entangled in the ropes of a lobster pot near Nannaquaket.

Thirteen years ago, I drove to the summer house on a glorious sunny summer’s day. When I arrived, I was told that my father and brother had taken my youngest son out on the sailboat. But out of the blue, there was a violent lightning storm.

We immediately drove down to the ramp, but they were nowhere in sight. We followed the Sakonnet River by car all the way to Nannaquaket, but all in vain. At this point, my mother, my daughter and I began crying hysterically. I prayed incessantly, pleading for God’s help.

We called the Coast Guard who had great difficulty understanding our plight because we were crying so hard. I called my husband back at home who raced to Tiverton.

After what seemed like hours, the Coast Guard called to say that the Tiverton Harbor Patrol had found them. The sun was shining when they were towed in.

The following fall, my 12-year-old son told the story of his rescue at sea in a school composition:

“My uncle and I and my grandfather were planning to use our sailboat. We watched the Weather Channel to see the weather forecast and the water currents. It said it was going to be fine weather to go sailing. We went to the docks at 9:30. The sun was shining, and the water was choppy. It was very good weather to go sailing. We had a small, 14-foot sailboat. We put it into the water, and my grandfather brought the car to the parking lot. My uncle and I got in the sailboat and waited for my grandfather. He came and our adventure started. Once we got out there, the wind picked up and we were having a good time. Then it started to pour. We were out on the bay, and we could not see anything. We had no idea where we were going. Then it started lightning, and we needed to get out of the water. We had an 18-foot aluminum sail. It was just like a lightning rod. We came upon an island, and we waited. An hour passed, then another. We were so cold and wet. We decided to go even though it was still lightning really badly. We were on our way back. Lightning hit the water right next to us. The wind died, and we were stranded in the middle of the ocean. My grandfather was soaked. We needed to get him warm. After a while, the Tiverton Harbor Patrol found us. So they gave us a rope, and I tied it to the front of the boat. It took them a half an hour to tow us in. We finally made it to shore. My mother was crying because she didn’t know if we would make it back. Everyone was so happy when we made it. After this, I will never believe the Weather Channel again. I don’t know if I will go on the sailboat ever again.”

Sometimes, the Lord walks on water and calms the sea, as well as our fears. Other times, He sends his angels, the Tiverton Harbor Patrol, to rescue us.

On this Easter Sunday and every day of my life, I know He lives.

   

Bunny in a bookstore and other animal encounters

See the turkeys in the trees in our back yard.

These days turkeys outnumber the dogs and cats in our country neighborhood. They sleep in the 100-foot pine trees in our back yard, and flocks stop traffic as they congregate in the street. One brazen fellow recently ambled up the brick path to our front stairs, and I was waiting for the doorbell to ring.

Likewise, at the summer place, we have always been surrounded by a bevy of animals, seabirds and marine life. We took our pets with us, and guests brought theirs along. Families walked Fogland Beach accompanied by prancing dogs, and cats curled up on sunny cottage windowsills. A pesky skunk took up residence under a nearby shed. Seagulls soared overhead while sandpipers danced near the water’s edge. A giant sea turtle washed ashore. 

And the Lord God made them all.

But the most memorable creature was a rabbit.

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I used to pass a bookstore on the way to the summer house, and many times I delayed the journey to browse the bookshelves of this delightful, old-fashioned store. A half-hour later, I emerged from the shop with another book tucked under my arm and yet another opportunity to while away the hours at the beach.

In 1983, the old Nonquit Grange in Tiverton was converted to the Mill Pond Shops, an eclectic grouping of five businesses on three levels, including a furniture shop, toy store, pottery workshop, women’s clothing store and my favorite stop, Books From 4 Corners. Weathered shingles and simple wooden signs beckoned the shopper inside.

A frequent customer, I wandered into Books From 4 Corners and was greeted by the gracious lady proprietor, who had retired from a teaching post a few years earlier. Stepping gingerly on the polished wide-plank floorboards, I admired the old cast iron wood stove and antique desk that decorated her shop. The woman told me that she filled the shelves with only those titles that intrigued her, a selection of very different and unusual books.

One sleepy Sunday afternoon I found myself once more searching the shelves of Books From 4 Corners. As usual, it didn’t take long to find a book I longed to read. 

While waiting in line, I felt a furry animal jump on my bare legs. At first I thought it was a white dog, but then I noticed it had big floppy ears. I tried to ignore the excited rabbit, but he really seemed to like me. It was then that I noticed an empty cage on the other side of the room with its door ajar.

As I handed the proprietor a bill, I felt the rabbit’s teeth dig into my flesh. He had bitten me on the back of my leg. The lady was shocked. 

“Eliot’s so gentle,” she told me. “It must be a love nip.”

Dropping my change on the counter, the lady chased the hopping rabbit into a corner, lifted him into her arms like a baby and locked him in the cage. 

She then opened a bottle of peroxide; and with the efficiency of a school nurse, she ordered me to hold still while she lightly dabbed the two bloody teeth marks in my skin. By this time the area surrounding the gashes had turned blue.

I left the store with the sound of her profound apologies ringing in my ears and an unusual throbbing in my leg. I no longer felt like lying on the beach with a good book – I just wanted to lie down.

Back at the summer house I limped over to the nearest chair and surveyed the damage. Swollen and bruised, I bore the imprint of Eliot’s romantic interlude.

Early the next morning before work, I reported to my doctor’s office for a tetanus shot. I explained to the nurse the source of my affliction.

“I know this is silly,” I told her, “but I was bitten by a huge rabbit that hopped on the back of my leg.” 

She howled with laughter. 

“It must be mating season,” I said. 

I returned to the office wearing two Band-aids, one on my arm from the shot and the other covering the bite on my leg.

Many years ago Books From 4 Corners closed its doors forever, and since then an assortment of diverse business ventures have claimed the space. I miss the joy I used to feel when entering the extraordinary little bookstore, the warmth of the knowledgeable proprietor, the strange and wonderful books that I found there – but I don’t miss Eliot. I still get hopping mad when I think about his last embrace.

'Water, water everywhere'

Water covers 70 percent of the Earth’s surface and is vital for life.

       

In the poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” the lyrical verse chants: “Water, water, everywhere, / Nor any drop to drink.”

Jutting out into the river, our slice of heaven at Fogland is a peninsula with the swirling Sakonnet on two sides and the brackish water of the salt marsh on the other.

Oftentimes, the air is heavy with moisture – the mist and fog so thick that it is a palpable thing, the water enveloping us like our first nine months of life afloat in amniotic fluid.

Yet, in this community of cottages, water is a hot commodity. With many of the dwellings sitting on 50-foot lots, there is little room for both a well and sewerage on the tiny plots. Consequently, many of the neighbors share wells, which are grandfathered to successive owners.

My parents bought our property in 1969. It is one of the larger parcels with 150 feet of land abutting farmland in our backyard.

We spent the first year camping in a tent and carrying fresh water to the site. Then we hired contractors to put in a point well and lay the intricate galley septic system.

From then on, the water flowed abundantly, and my father often remarked how sweet-tasting it was, compared to the chlorine-treated water back home.

On April 20, 1990, the Rhode Island Department of Health tested our well water; and a couple of weeks later, my parents received the following letter:

“Enclosed is a copy of the water report containing analytical results of the water sample collected from your well. The results indicate the presence of Temik and other carbamates and by-products with concentrations higher than acceptable. Research data indicates that you should not use your water for cooking or drinking. You will be monitored periodically by the Department of Health.”

There was trouble in paradise. Our water was contaminated by a chemical we had never heard of. We had to educate ourselves.

We learned that Temik is a restricted-use pesticide which is used to primarily control insects in crops. It is closely regulated because of its toxicity to humans and animals and its potential for ground water and food crop contamination.

Shortly, thereafter the Department of Health ordered that a filtering system be installed on our well. My parents never received a bill for the equipment.

A year later, the water was tested again, and my parents received a letter with the news of the positive results:

“We are pleased to say that no traces of Temik were detected in your sample. You will be monitored periodically by the Department of Health.”

To this day, I never drink water from the tap. After the scare, it just made sense to drink bottled water, although we use well water for every other use.

Over the years at the summer house, we have endured many natural threats, including catastrophic hurricanes, killing red tides, mosquitoes infected with Eastern Equine Encephalitis and deer ticks carrying Lyme disease.

But there was nothing natural about the contamination of our water supply.

In paradise, lush green plants can bear forbidden fruit.

Daffodils in the snow

As New Englanders, our roots are deeply planted; but like our towering pines in the wind, we tend to bend. We adapt no matter the weather.

The last weekend in January, my husband and I headed to the summer place. Bright sunshine and balmy air belied the season.

Pulling into the backyard, I noticed that the daffodils, sheltered by the stone wall, had broken through the hard earth and were ready to bloom.

While I walked around the yard, I yearned to open the shed, grab a lawn chair and sit with my face turned toward the sun.

We drove down the street, parked on the beach, cranked down the windows and stared at the Creator’s handiwork. Reflecting the blue sky, the Sakonnet was as calm as a lake in June.

I jumped out of the cab and sunk into the soft sand. With the warm wind at my back, I walked along the water’s edge, longing to kick off my shoes.

After a long absence, I reluctantly returned to the truck.

Fast forward, ten days …

First came the forecast: The meteorologists at New England Cable News told us to expect 17 inches of snow in our neck of the woods.

Eight hours and eight inches later, wet, sticky snow covered everything as far as the eye, in limited visibility, could see.

I had filled the bird feeder before the storm, and the only visitors we received that day were cheerful chickadees that whistled “peter-peter-peter” while darting back and forth from birdseed to bush.

When the snow stopped, my husband ventured out into the dark to plow the driveway. On one of his last passes near the barn, he heard a loud crack. He was sure that a hundred-foot pine tree would topple during the night.

Consequently, we slept in the living room, since our bedroom was in the path of the suspected tree. The next morning my husband found the huge limb that had smacked the roof of the barn before breaking into pieces on the ground. Thank God, the tree was sound.

Today, three days later, the second blizzard hit.

This morning we lost power as soon as the first flakes began to circle in the 40- to 50-mile-an-hour gusts. For the first time this season, the generator hummed.

It is now 10 p.m., and the flakes are still falling. We will dig ourselves out tomorrow, and I think of those daffodils, just yearning to poke a hole in all that snow.

   

Snow day sojourn

An enchanted forest beckons etched by the Creator's artistry.

Out of the wind against a stonewall, a horse surveys its domain.

Framed by sea and sky, a couple walks their dog.

An overturned blue boat awaits summer under a blanket of snow.

The horse is out of the barn covered in a colorful blue blanket.

Glorious red berries sparkle in the sun.

The oyster farmer eyes his boat from the warmth of his truck. 

"Pardon, me. Do you have a carrot?"

Sand and snow create a mythical glacier.

'There are better things ahead than any we leave behind'

A couple seeks sea glass on this blustery, overcast New Year's Day.

Time marches on.

“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road, or a secret gate,” said J. R. R. Tolkien.

Shortly, Fogland will wear its winter wardrobe of snow and ice; and arctic winds will blow. 

Yet come summer, cars, trucks and trailers will cover this horseshoe-shaped cove; and the shack will be open for beach passes.

Boaters towing trailers will wait their turn as they back down the ramp and release their sail and power boats into the Sakonnet.

Windsurfers will careen across the waves.

Children will wade into the water, splashing and screaming with delight.

Dogs will trot by with their owners.

Colorful beach towels will resemble an old-fashioned piecework quilt, awaiting the swimmers return.

Fishermen will cast from the Point into the swift current, hoping to catch the big one.

This place will be teeming with life.

But for now, the beach in January is a blank slate just like a new 2016 calendar with 12 months of empty pages.

“What we call the end is also a beginning. The end is where we start from,” said T. S. Eliot.

We start over and begin anew. 

“What the new year will bring, we cannot know,” said New England author Gladys Taber. “And I think as the new year begins, I might well do some pruning in my own life, keeping the essentials, the real values, and letting go the part that is no longer contributing to the growing time of my spirit.”

Today as I walk along this Rhode Island beach, I give thanks for the gift of another year. The cold, biting wind ushers me along. 

“There are better things ahead than any we leave behind,” said C. S. Lewis.

We just need to take the next step.

I saw three ships on Christmas Day

                                  

It is a New England Christmas by the sea.

All is calm. All is bright.

The Sakonnet is tranquil stretching in a blanket of blue to Middletown, Newport and beyond.

An old English Christmas carol comes to mind.

“I saw three ships come sailing in, / On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; I saw three ships come sailing in, / On Christmas Day in the morning.”

There is not a boat in sight, but I imagine three.

“The Virgin Mary and Christ were there, / On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; / The Virgin Mary and Christ were there, / On Christmas Day in the morning.”

The Gospel according to Luke tells us:

“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed… every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem – because he was of the house and lineage of David – To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”

“O they sailed into Bethlehem, / On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; / O they sailed into Bethlehem, / On Christmas Day in the morning.”

The lyrics mention the ships sailing into Bethlehem, but the nearest body of water is the Dead Sea about 20 miles away.

“And all the bells on earth shall ring, / On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; / And all the bells on earth shall ring, / On Christmas Day in the morning.”

I hear the ships’ bells ringing four times. The strikes indicate the hour aboard a ship and regulate the sailors’ watches. The strikes do not match the number of the hour. Instead, there are eight bells, one for each half-hour of a four-hour watch. Do you hear what I hear?

“And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing, / On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; / And all the Angels in Heaven shall sing, / On Christmas Day in the morning.”

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord… And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

“And all the souls on earth shall sing, / On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; / And all the souls on earth shall sing, / On Christmas Day in the morning.”

Whether we arrive by donkey, camel, ship, sleigh or jumbo jet, we find Him. Christ comes to us today.

“Then let us all  rejoice again, / On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; /Then let us all rejoice again, / On Christmas Day in the morning."