wheee-weeeeee-whee. Happy Birthday!
February First, Twenty-Fifteen. 50F and wind at 0 MPH reports the weather site even though it's windy up here. On my porch looking across St. Andrews Bay, for the first time I hear the Gulf of Mexico surf, a faint roar from about four miles away.
One Feb is a day marking history in my life. Thirty years ago, February 1, 1985, I became a grandfather as Nicholas Kevin Weller was born. Linda and I and Tass had recently moved from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to Apalachicola, Florida and were at our first Diocesan Convention in Mobile. Tass was home with a sitter, probably my mother and father. We had a high floor hotel room looking south out on the battleship USS ALABAMA. It was cold, seems to me there was a touch of snow, and people talking about moving future convention times toward spring. My lifelong hero Father Tom Byrne, whom I had not seen since 1955, was there and I got to visit with him.
Calling from Texas where he and Dianne were in the Army, Joe caught us in our hotel room. It was a memorable moment and Nicholas was a joy of my life all his growing up years. I remember how I felt once when he told me, "Granddaddy, I love you just as much as if you were my own daddy." I had deep sadness, a deep, deep grieving after his parents separated and eventually divorced, but Nick was permitted to come see us, and that kindness and those memories will always abide in my heart. We had him during Christmas holidays and summer vacations. One of my memories, he would have been five or six or seven, I guess. It was summer and we were riding around Apalachicola in my old green Ford F-100 pickup truck. I had the blues because he had been with me nearly two months and summer was fading and it was time to take him home to South Florida. All of a sudden he says, “Granddaddy, guess what!! I talked with my Mom last night and she said I can stay another month!” It is on my list of One of Life’s Happiest Moments.
On the other hand, I remember the day Dot Hill brought us a large ice cold watermelon. We always cut and ate them, Nick and I, just the two of us, next door to the rectory on the back stoop of Benedict Hall, the parishhouse, then we'd wash off the concrete porch and steps with the hose. That day, I put the watermelon in the refrigerator and told Nicholas we would cut and eat it as soon as my meeting was over. An hour later the meeting ended and I went to the refrigerator to get the watermelon. Like the cupboard in Old Mother Hubbard, the refrigerator was bare. I found him and said, "Nick, our watermelon is gone." He says, I ate it.
Today marks the 37th anniversary of my retirement from the U.S. Navy, 1 Feb 1978. I went in just after graduation from UFla in 1957, had a decent, respectable and honorable career, lots of fun at sea and in Washington, DC, and submitted my retirement papers the instant I had twenty years. It took the Navy six or seven months to process my request, my admiral twice to try and talk me out of it, and they let me go. If it takes, here's my picture retiring in proper Navy tradition with saluting sideboys of my rank as the bosun's mate pipes me over the side. My last hour in uniform.
If that pic doesn’t take, here’s a selfie of me back in uniform, having supper last evening at Just the Cook, pierside at St. Andrew’s Marina, where a father and son have set up a decent cafe in a houseboat.
We had supper, two sandwiches, both good. I had the cilantro-burger because they were out of the shrimp dish. Linda had an "adult grilled cheese" and a coke. I had two beers, Bud Lite. Coke and water is a dollar. Beer and wine are free. Do I need to say that again? Coke is a dollar, Beer is Free. I don't drink soda pop, which when I was a boy we called a "cole drank." In those days a coke was a nickel like it's supposed to be, six cents if you had to leave a deposit, ice cold in a green bottle, and maybe a little bit frozen right up at the top.
Happy birthday, Grandson. I still love you just as much as ever.
Tom+ in +Time
Commander, U.S. Navy (Retired)
One Feb is a day marking history in my life. Thirty years ago, February 1, 1985, I became a grandfather as Nicholas Kevin Weller was born. Linda and I and Tass had recently moved from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to Apalachicola, Florida and were at our first Diocesan Convention in Mobile. Tass was home with a sitter, probably my mother and father. We had a high floor hotel room looking south out on the battleship USS ALABAMA. It was cold, seems to me there was a touch of snow, and people talking about moving future convention times toward spring. My lifelong hero Father Tom Byrne, whom I had not seen since 1955, was there and I got to visit with him.
Calling from Texas where he and Dianne were in the Army, Joe caught us in our hotel room. It was a memorable moment and Nicholas was a joy of my life all his growing up years. I remember how I felt once when he told me, "Granddaddy, I love you just as much as if you were my own daddy." I had deep sadness, a deep, deep grieving after his parents separated and eventually divorced, but Nick was permitted to come see us, and that kindness and those memories will always abide in my heart. We had him during Christmas holidays and summer vacations. One of my memories, he would have been five or six or seven, I guess. It was summer and we were riding around Apalachicola in my old green Ford F-100 pickup truck. I had the blues because he had been with me nearly two months and summer was fading and it was time to take him home to South Florida. All of a sudden he says, “Granddaddy, guess what!! I talked with my Mom last night and she said I can stay another month!” It is on my list of One of Life’s Happiest Moments.
On the other hand, I remember the day Dot Hill brought us a large ice cold watermelon. We always cut and ate them, Nick and I, just the two of us, next door to the rectory on the back stoop of Benedict Hall, the parishhouse, then we'd wash off the concrete porch and steps with the hose. That day, I put the watermelon in the refrigerator and told Nicholas we would cut and eat it as soon as my meeting was over. An hour later the meeting ended and I went to the refrigerator to get the watermelon. Like the cupboard in Old Mother Hubbard, the refrigerator was bare. I found him and said, "Nick, our watermelon is gone." He says, I ate it.
Happy birthday, Grandson. I still love you just as much as ever.
Tom+ in +Time
Commander, U.S. Navy (Retired)