Fair winds and following seas.

How do you begin to honor a person in a two dimensional world of print when they filled so many more dimensions of your life? It seems like words cannot possibly do justice, but yet here I sit trying to make sense of the unthinkable. I guess I just want the world to remember you. I don’t want you to fade into the background of life. You are too amazing for that.  You always were the one to email me forwards that made everyday life so much more meaningful. The smile they brought to my face when I was in law school was always so needed.

I remember when I lived in Africa and was having such a hard time. I remember I had been invited to a party for a military diplomat and I was discussing how I didn’t want to go and be around those horrible people and when I turned around the host was behind me. It was a bad time in my life and I had let it turn me into someone who was hateful. Sometime after that, you emailed me a forward about a father that sent his four sons to visit the same tree, during different seasons, in another part of the country. When they came back the first son, who had seen it in winter said it was dead and looked ugly and lifeless. The second son said he couldn’t imagine what his brother saw because he had seen it in Spring and it was budding and green. The third son went during summer and described even more beauty; while the fourth son said the tree’s time had passed and it was loosing it’s leaves. You reminded me that I was the same way and my life was like those seasons and the people around me just happened to see me during winter.  It made me feel better and helped me not to judge other people so harshly. They were going through a winter too.

Then during law school when I was stressed, and little things would be too much, you reminded me to stop and think about whether that specific thing would matter in five years; if it would then I should get upset and if it wouldn’t then I just needed to move on. I still have a sticky note on my fridge that you sent me it says:

Remember to ignore the bumps and enjoy the ride!

I always enjoyed you Grandpa. You signed every letter to me with “Grumpy Gramps”. I asked you once why you did, but you just smiled and wouldn’t answer. You said I knew, I don’t. I will never remember you grumpy. I can’t remember one time when you were.  I do remember your deep voice and the times you sang to “Irish Man’s Shanty” to us. I do remember your fabulous chocolate chip cookies that you always had on hand and brought to every family occasion. I love those cookies for so many more reasons than their flavor.

What I want other people to remember about you is the Navy service you took such pride in. You were the reason I chose the Navy. You were the one who inspired five grandchildren to serve their country and its your service to the country that will never be forgotten by those who will always remember you.

You shipped out of Bremerton, Washington, on the USS Seginus (AK 133) after boot camp in Farragut, Idaho in June of 1944. It had one five inch gun aft on an elevated mount, one three inch gun forward and eight 20 mm anti aircraft guns. You were on it when it was used it to deliver cargo to Guam, Saipan, Eniwetok,  Hawaii and other little islands in the Marshalls and Marianas Island groups

After the Seginus you were on the USS Atlanta (CL 104). You were in the Marshalls and Marianas and staged at Saipan for the invasion of Japan when the atom bomb was dropped. On that ship you were in Guam, Saipan-Tinian, Okinawa, and Manilla. You landed Marines at Sasebo for the occupation of Japan then cruised around the coast gathering in Japanese who didn’t know the war was over. You also patrolled for mines and exploded them. You were in Nagasaki, Yokosuka, Tokyo, Ryukyu and Kagoshima, Japan. They shipped you home from TsingTao, China on the USS Comet (APA 166) to San Fransisco and from there you got discharged in Minneapolis in June of 1946.

Then you got called back as a critical rate for the Korean War. You were assigned to the USS McGinty (DE 365) but weren’t able to stay long because Grandma was sick and when Grandpa Blankenship went to bring them back to Iowa they got in a car wreck that was serious enough to ship you home. You got your final discharge shortly after on a hardship.

You started out as a seaman first class on the deck crew that serviced the block and tackle on the fore and aft cargo masts. You spliced cable, painted booms and maintained winches and steam lines. One day, just outside of Hawaii, you were assigned to a work party to break out charts and equiptment for the navigator. He invited you to join his crew and strike for the quartermaster rate. You said yes and made third class. You liked taking star sights, posting charts and was helmsman for the watch and battle stations. You never stopped serving your country and were always the one to volunteer in your community. You were the post commander for the VFW and you got us all memberships to make sure we carried on your legacy.

Thank you for living your life with courage and honesty. I hope to live mine the same way. We will miss you. I promise to make sure I tell your stories and tibits of wisdom to my children and write them down so their children will know them too. You were a great man and a fabulous grandpa. There is so much more to you than I can put here. The way you smelled, the alcohol, the special women in your life, the cribbage games, the magazines we couldn’t turn over,  the way your hair laid down on the bottom and got fluffier until it hit the bald patch. Your beautiful, bass voice in the choir. The stories you told. They way you tried to make all of us feel like your favorite in some way. The articles you wrote. The belt buckle and coin you always wore. The way you squeezed when you hugged. The content look on your face when you were surrounded by family.

I’m sorry you are gone. I’m glad for the times we shared and life you lived. It is that life that will always be remembered. So here’s to you and the scotch you loved. I will always tip one back in happy memory of you. I may be sad, but I will not dwell on it. I will focus on your life and not your death.

Fair winds and following seas. We will stand your watch. You have been relieved.