We're Going Over...

Not  long after our family moved from Minnesota to Texas in 1964, Dad bought a 2-man boat (we called it a dinghy) for some of the best family fun I can remember!  I remember us all loving the lake outings so much that Dad kept trading up to larger boats – 2 feet at a time – until it wasn’t too many summers before we had a 16 ft boat with a small cabin similar to the  image shown above.  This was the last boat I enjoyed with the family before starting college. 

I can’t speak for any of the other kids, but I particularly LOVED sailing with Dad.  It was the one thing we did together when he patiently taught me how to do something that he also loved doing. 

The boys had his heart and soul for Scout meetings, hikes, overnight outings and summer camp to which we girls were not invited.  But when I asked to go sailing, I knew I was absolutely welcome in the sailboat because I was showing Dad I was eager and willing to learn a new skill.  I especially looked forward to the trips out to Benbrook Lake.

The summer of ‘67 Dad became quite enthralled with his 16’ sailboat with a small lower deck and 3 sails.  That rig proved to be quite a challenge for him – but most of the time John and/or Gus went along when Dad would be facing Benbrook’s stronger winds.    

I remember one particularly beautiful Saturday morning, however, when the boys weren’t home and Dad REALLY wanted to go out sailing.  I was available, but Mom was hesitant to go because the wind in the neighborhood was already pretty gusty and she felt that things might be too rough out in the middle of the lake.  Her sea sickness kicked in VERY easily!

Dad promised her we’d just drive out to take a look.  He said if things were too rough we’d come right back.  Well, once we got out to the lake, the sky was blue, the wind was mild and the water was beckoning us onward.  Neither Dad nor I could resist the sweet temptation to sail! 

I wasn’t as skilled as the boys at helping Dad back the boat trailer down the ramp at the waters’ edge, unhooking the boat and then keeping it steady while Dad parked the truck off to the side of the ramp…but I did my best.

On this particular morning, with me as the only crew, Dad had to do a lot of things by himself – and as he became more and more frustrated, the wind picked up without either one of us taking notice.

By the time he came running back to the boat from the truck, the rolled up sails were starting a fluttered rap, rap, rap – and when Dad jumped into the boat and jerked the mainline to heave up the mainsail, the wind caught hold of the unruly sheets and jerked us both off kilter…and without warning, the boat began gliding too fast along the surface of the water.

As we headed farther and farther out to the center of the lake, we looked around and realized that no other boats were out today.  There was no one to give signal of our distress.  Our lifejackets had slid out of our out of our reach onto the lower deck and we were in big trouble! 

We couldn’t catch our balance and the boat started tipping over to one side.  Dad first pulled himself up and then me as he tried to off- balance the wind with our combined body weight on the windward side of the boat. 

He handed me two ropes and told me to do with my ropes exactly what I saw him doing.  We wrapped the lines down around our back, then around an elbow and gripped tightly with our hands.  We leaned backward over the high edge of the boat as far as we dared.  My eyes were glued on Dad’s face to catch any slight glimpse of instruction from him.

Steeled concentration fixed the muscles of his face and I tried ever so hard to do exactly what he was doing.  My arms locked in place just like his.  My knees and feet pushed down to lean against the side of the boat with my calf muscles tensed just like his.

At that split second in time, I remember thinking/praying, “…let me be strong like Dad, let me be strong like Dad…”

Now, there were many things about my father I didn’t like – and many times as a young adult I didn’t want to be anything like him.  But right now, in the boat, I was proud of him.  I was proud to be with him.  I was trying to mimic his skill at sailing…his tenacity to overcome adversity…his Thor Heyerdahl spirit of adventure.  And I was very proud to be standing next to him in our sudden fight for life against the elements.

…this grand opportunity had come for me to partner with Dad in a challenge against the winds of fate.  I wanted more than anything to move like Dad, think like Dad and outwit nature like Dad was surely going to do.  But he didn’t outwit nature at all.

I took one long last look at him as our bodies were lifted like childish puppets – no - like paper kites - higher and higher - the boat continuing its self-designed rollover against our wishes. 

Suddenly, I heard the mast slap the surface of the water and break apart into large shards of wood.  The sails were useless.  We were taking on water and could no longer fight the inevitable.  Dad smiled in a toothy, happy grin and motioned for me to let go of the ropes.  He started to laugh, winked at me and said, “Hold on to your pants, Julie, we’re goin’ over!”