Sunday, July 24, 2016


Up about usual for a non-preaching Sunday, there’s the waning moon up high. Northwest to southeast, a wide contrail stripes the sky, appears clear though’ve not yet been out. Three red lights flashing from my Bay chair, and if I lean a bit, my green light that winked at me from the house those years. And I do lean a bit to remember.

After our Saturday family supper, Seaboard Valparaiso 595 x 92, left port bound for Houston, general cargo. About a 29 to 32 foot draft, I wonder if she has to watch the tide for sailing —

Last evening the “paddlewheeler” Betsy Ann steamed by, well lighted up. We’ve generally seen her only in the north-south channel that turns right out here and heads north toward Hathaway Bridge, but this time, maybe someone’s birthday party cruise, in the east-west channel off 7H. My green light at her stern like in my own life; above her and farther away, a white light tops something at Tyndall. 

Today’s my brother’s birthday, 1939, Happy Birthday, Walt! Walter Gentry Weller. On Walt’s third birthday, July 24, 1942, we parked at the Standard Oil filling station that was where Tarpon Dock Seafood is now, and Happy came into our lives, a six or eight weeks puppy said to be mixed collie & shepherd. He was part of our family through my high school years. Walt named him Happy Birthday. 

Mind is suddenly flooded with the Happy years. Happy came into our hearts when WW2 was not quite nine months on for us, the summer before my second grade year at Cove School. Thinking back, Happy may secretly have known he was Walt’s and Walt was his, but he grew up with us and was ours. Never a house dog, Happy slept in the back yard nights, protection against my small boy trepidation about taking the garbage out evenings, to the garbage can way, way up back at the alley where woods began pitch black dark, and strange sounds. Feed Happy, mostly table scraps, and his water bowl was under the dripping faucet at the pump by the back door. 

Leaning to remember


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